


Unchain the birds from the sky

by Sororising



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bathroom access laws, Coming Out, Consent discussions, Discussion of Abortion, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Menstruation, Mention of STIs, Mostly fluffy some angst, Oral Sex, Past Underage Sex, Started as a 2k oneshot now we're here, Swearing, Trans Character, Trans Steve Rogers, Transphobia, suicidal thoughts mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 46,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sororising/pseuds/Sororising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jesus. I haven’t laughed like that in - well, in a long time.”</p><p>That made Steve smile cautiously, and Bucky decided there was no way he could wait any longer. He pulled Steve to the side of the street, turned to face him, and then ducked his head down so that their lips were only a few inches from touching.</p><p>“I had such a good time tonight,” Bucky said softly. “I really want to see you again, Steve.”</p><p>Steve’s eyes were wide, but he looked determined as hell. “Me too,” he said, and then he reached up and tangled his hand in Bucky’s hair, drawing them closer and closer together until <i>finally</i> they were kissing, only quick kisses in-between breaths, neither of them pushing for more, and Bucky realised that he never wanted this night to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this began all the way back in March, when House Bill 2 ([the transphobic bathroom access act](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_Facilities_Privacy_%26_Security_Act)) was passed in North Carolina. I had a lot of feelings about it even though I'm not from the US, so I wrote them out in a Bucky/Steve oneshot that I was never going to post anywhere. 
> 
> And then I kept thinking about the versions of the characters I'd thought up, and coming up with more and more plotlines involving them...and, well, 45k words later, here we are. This is the longest thing I have ever written, the first fanfiction I have ever finished, and the first piece of writing I have ever posted online. I hope I have treated the characters sensitively, but please let me know if there is anything you feel I should have done differently. Tags are hopefully comprehensive, but again I am more than happy to update them. This work is unbetaed so feel free to point out any mistakes.
> 
> Title is the opposite of the Bob Dylan quote "Even the birds are chained to the sky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Bucky and Steve have their first meeting. Outside a bathroom, because not all romances begin with romantic settings.

* * *

Bucky had been in a bad mood all day, from the moment he woke up three hours after he’d managed to finally get to sleep to now, ducking into a shitty mall because he needed to pee and still had three blocks to walk before work.

The men’s bathroom smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned in a month, and there was a puddle in the corner where some asshole had clearly decided to ignore all five urinals, but he really didn’t give a fuck right then. He had finished and was about to give his hand a quick wash when he heard someone shouting right outside the door.

Muttering under his breath about drunk idiots who decide to start a fight in a mall he bets doesn’t bother to hire decent security, he pushed at the door only to find someone leaning heavily on the other side. Bucky shoved harder, and the door moved easily once he was actually putting some effort into it. 

There were two people on the other side, the guy who had been blocking the door and another, much shorter person. Bucky couldn’t tell at a glance what gender they were, which was cleared up in about five seconds when he heard them saying to the dickhead who was in Bucky’s way: “I _am_ a man, you shitheel, and I will fucking _pee_ on you if you don’t let me into the bathroom!”

Oh, Christ on a bike. This was not Bucky’s problem. He was close to being late for his shift; he knew they wouldn’t fire him for it, but he could do without a black mark on his record. But he'd wanted to chuck his laptop out of the window when he had read about the new bathroom laws being passed, and he was already mentally preparing himself in case he needed to throw a punch or two. Seriously, though, what was this fucker doing acting like this in New York? This wasn’t exactly a city where diversity was a curse word. Not that it would have been any better if he was doing it in some North Carolina backwater, but it would have at least fitted his stereotype better.

The smaller guy looked two seconds away from launching himself forward and most likely getting himself knocked out cold, so Bucky quickly stepped in-between them. He tried to channel the voice he used when breaking up a fistfight at work, and calmly asked: “Is there a problem here?”

To his surprise, he got an instant reply, but from the guy he’d turned his back to rather than from the one he’d actually been talking to.

“I’m fine! I’ve got it covered, you can piss off.”

Bucky turned his head, raising an eyebrow and hoping that got across the message he intended, which was something along the lines of _this asshole weighs three times as much as you, are you seriously refusing some backup here?_

He turned back when he heard a snorting sound from the guy leaning against the door. Bucky narrowed his eyes, knowing full well that he didn’t look like someone it would be a bright idea to mess with. The guy seemed to actually look at him for the first time, and clearly didn’t like what he saw; he put his hands up in mock surrender and started moving away.

“Alright, dude, chill,” he said. “This little dyke here was tryin’ to get into the gents. Probably wanted to have a look at some real dick, eh?”

The last few words were directed to the guy behind Bucky - except he wasn’t behind him anymore, he was starting forward like someone with a fucking death wish - and were accompanied by the grossest leer Bucky had ever seen in his life. Which was really saying something for a vet who worked in a sleazy bar.

“Fucking hell,” Bucky snapped, twisting the big guy’s arm up behind him and marching him out of the way of the door. “He’s a guy that wants to take a piss, you maniac. And you realise that no straight woman wants to look at your dick, right, let alone any lesbians?”

Douchebag looked like someone who’d normally take any excuse for a fight, which to be honest Bucky was kind of in the mood for right now, but he seemed to lose his nerve as soon as he realised just how little chance he had of getting away from this one a winner. He walked off in a huff, sticking both middle fingers up and yelling something Bucky chose to ignore about faggots with attitude problems.

“You didn’t have to do that! I was handling it!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Yeah, pal, you really had him on the ropes.” Bucky should probably tone down the sarcasm. He did feel bad for the guy, but he was pretty sure at least one person would have ended up with a black eye if he hadn’t stepped in. He wasn’t expecting a thank you, but he could at least do with no more people shouting at him tonight.

“Are you eighty? Who says pal anymore?” The guy looked like he was ready to argue about the colour of the sky, and Bucky really didn’t want to be any later than he already was, so he just rolled his eyes and started walking away.

He turned around after a few steps, though, to see the guy still standing there looking defiant. Bucky let out his breath slowly instead of saying what he’d been about to, which would probably have been _you’re welcome, now fucking go piss already, kid._ He was feeling kind of guilty for snapping at someone who’d just got harassed for trying to go to the bathroom. Who knew if that was the first time as well? He could see a few Pride badges on the guy’s jacket; maybe he had to deal with this kind of thing a lot. Bucky might have occasionally been given a hard time for being queer by people that knew about it, but he’d never had random people look at him and assume shit about his sexuality or gender. Which, to be honest, pissed him off in a different way, but it probably did make his life easier.

He sighed, sending a mental apology to his supervisor. Though not a very sincere one; he disliked pretty much everyone he worked with.

“Sorry, man,” he said. “That guy was driving me nuts soon as he opened his mouth. Couldn’t help myself.”

The other guy looked down, and Bucky thought he could see his cheeks turning red. “S’okay. Sorry for yelling at you. And - um, you know. Thanks.” Yeah, he was definitely blushing. Which was beyond adorable, not that Bucky was going to say that out loud.

“Anytime.” Bucky let his mouth quirk up in the smile that Natasha called his _fuck me but don’t fuck with me_ expression. “Except, you know, hopefully not literally. Don’t want that to happen to you again.”

“It will.”

His tone wasn’t even angry anymore. He was just stating a fact of his life, which pissed Bucky off more than if he’d said it with any emotion behind it. But he didn’t have time for an in-depth conversation on bathroom access rights, no matter how many opinions he had on the subject.

Instead, he just said: “People suck. Sorry.” And shrugged, knowing how useless his words were. 

The guy clearly understood that Bucky wanted to head off, because he gave him a small wave then pulled open the bathroom door. Just before he went inside, though, Bucky could have sworn he heard another begrudging _thank you,_ which made him smile.

Seconds later, he was jogging towards the mall exit, hoping that work wouldn’t be busy already and he wouldn’t be in too much trouble. He couldn’t bring himself to regret stepping in, though. Some people thought they could get away with anything, and Bucky was always happy to be there to prove them wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was unbelievably nervous to click post on this. I really hope you liked the first chapter, it's a short one compared to the others. One small note: when Bucky says things like "couldn't tell at a glance what gender they were," yes, he is being mildly and unintentionally transphobic since you can never know someone's gender just from their appearance. This isn't the only time he will say something along those lines; my intention with writing Bucky was to portray someone who is a generally very accepting person but who hasn't really interacted with trans people before and hasn't thought to educate himself on trans-specific issues (this will change later in the fic). 
> 
> Any comments, con-crit, or kudos are more than appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve meet for a second time, again under unexpected circumstances. See end notes for a spoilery chapter warning (it has to do with harassment and the mention of abortion tag).
> 
> The songs mentioned in this chapter are [Heart of a Dragon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8aevoJ90L8) by Dragonforce and [The Times They Are A Changin'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7qQ6_RV4VQ) by Bob Dylan, in case you wanted to listen to them as you get to those sections.
> 
> Thank you so much everyone that read or left kudos on the first chapter! Every one of them made me smile.

* * *

Bucky hadn’t forgotten about the incident; every time someone mentioned the bathroom laws it came back to him and he had to suppress a strong urge to punch someone in the face. But he’d definitely never thought he would run into the guy again. New York wasn’t a small place, and there weren’t many places Bucky was comfortable in. Mostly he just split his time between his tiny apartment, work, and wherever Nat and Clint insisted he meet them every so often so they could check up on him. Other than grocery stores and the odd deviation from routine when he couldn’t sleep and started walking in a random direction till the sun came up, there was only one other place he could be found fairly regularly.

“Barnes. Thank goodness you showed today. We’ve got a nasty few out front. Not many of them, but the things they’ve been shouting...ugh, I really hate people sometimes.”

Maria looked like she was close to the end of her rope, but Bucky knew she was one of those people who could keep going for a hell of a long time even if that was the case. Despite clearly being under a lot of stress, she still managed to look like she was in command of her own personal army. He’d wondered if she was ex-military the first time they met, but hadn’t been sure if he should ask. It turned out he hadn’t been too far off; Maria had been on track for one of the fastest rising careers in NYPD history before she’d quit to work her way up to her current position as director of the Brooklyn Planned Parenthood branch.

“And the people hate you back.” Bucky usually toned down his slightly bitter sense of humour, but he knew Maria wouldn’t take him seriously. She didn’t take shit from anyone, which meant Bucky didn’t need to filter out any of his more cynical worldviews in a conversation with her. Which was a refreshing change from the bullshit he had to deal with every night at work.

“Don’t I know it.” She wasn’t quite smiling, but he thought she looked a little less tense. He was even more glad he’d come in today when he realised he hadn’t actually seen any other escorts yet. 

“Who else we got in?” He hoped it wasn’t just him. He was good at being a buffer for other people’s pointless hate speeches, but he’d rather not do a whole day of it alone. And Maria would have been more than up for it, but as director she had to stay inside and handle the actual running of the place.

“May’s here, thank the lord. And we got one of our old guys back. He took a break for a bit, but he’s a tough cookie. We really need you too, though. This guy would stand up to an army to save a lame dog, he’s unreal. But, well. You have the look, no offence meant.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Maria, darling, there was a customer last night calling me a freakshow and asking if I was some kind of cyborg assassin before he’d even got a drink down him. You gotta try harder than that if you want to offend me.”

“Noted.” Maria’s phone beeped, and she jumped up, waving at Bucky to stand as well. “First appointment’s early; she’s in a cab but there’s a guy in front of the door and the driver’s threatening to leave and drop her somewhere else.”

He was half running before she’d even finished her sentence, easily catching the pair of headphones Maria threw at him. 

He slowed to a fast walk as he approached the small crowd that was gathering round the waiting taxi. There were only six protesters, but Bucky would bet that to whoever was in the cab they seemed like a mob. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Melinda May walking up as well, looking as intimidating as ever, and he nodded once at her without breaking his stride.

They’d done this dance dozens of times. May ducked through the people standing around the taxi with her arms spread wide, which had the double effects of getting everyone’s attention on her and also breaking up the group. She was a commanding presence, almost as tall as Bucky and dressed in her usual all-black ensemble; plus she had the most effective _I could kill you with my pinky finger_ expression Bucky had ever seen. As she launched into her well-rehearsed speech about the rules and regulations of protests Bucky quietly slipped past and opened the cab door.

Where the first thing he saw was a walking stick. Okay, so this might not be quite as fast a process as normal.

“Hi there,” Bucky said, keeping his voice light and friendly. “Don’t worry, I’m not with these assholes.” He waved his Planned Parenthood volunteer lanyard in front of his face. “I’m Bucky, by the way, and can I ask if you’re good to walk or if you need another option?”

She wasn’t particularly old, maybe mid-thirties, and she looked about as fed up as - well, as she had a right to, he guessed. She didn’t look either scared or in the mood to throw a punch, though, so he was hoping this would go fairly smoothly.

“I’m Dee, and I can walk just as well as you can. At about a quarter of the speed, mind, but that’s your problem not mine.”

Bucky looked at his left arm with a rueful expression. “I know a bit about that sort of thing myself, so no complaints here. Now, let’s get you safe inside, shall we? Ah, wait, do you want some music on the way?”

He held up the wireless over-ear headphones, offering them out to her. “They’re bluetooth, linked to my phone,” he explained. “We find it drowns out the ignorance some, especially if you blast heavy metal.”

She shrugged, and took them off him. “Why not? Not like my day’s gonna get worse if it turns out you have shit taste in music.”

Bucky checked his phone was linked up and hit play on his favourite Dragonforce song. He held the door open a little wider, knowing that May would have been paying attention out of the corner of her eye and would see his cue. 

Sure enough, she raised her voice and started addressing her remarks to specific protesters rather than to the group as a whole; always a good way to get their attention.

He didn’t know who had suggested the headphones; they had been a new addition Maria had explained to him a couple of shifts ago. He liked the idea a lot and almost wished he could have some himself when he heard the chants of _murderer_ and _heathen_ get louder as the protesters clued into the fact that their target was out of the taxi and starting to get away from them.

He positioned himself on Dee’s left side, blocking as much of her from view as possible. She started walking slowly, leaning heavily on her cane, and Bucky made sure to stay on high alert in case she tripped or anything. He could see that she was visibly pregnant now that she had stood up, which was rare, and he hoped that the protesters hadn’t picked up on that. 

They had, of course, because apparently he couldn’t catch a break today. He could almost feel them gearing up, and he knew that the venom they were about to spew would be nothing he hadn’t heard before, but he tensed anyway and turned the volume on his phone to maximum.

Then, from what seemed like out of nowhere, a new person popped up, wearing a Planned Parenthood t-shirt and immediately moving to stand in front of the protesters. With a shock, Bucky recognised him as the guy from outside the mall bathroom the other week. What were the chances? He couldn’t say anything, all his attention had to be on Dee, but he was looking forward to actually introducing himself to the guy at some point when things had calmed down.

One of the two female protesters - who Bucky irrationally disliked even more than the others; being so eager to demonise their own gender made no sense to him - took one look at the new guy and said in a clear voice that carried over the noise of the others: “Your existence is a sin! Don’t look at me, you _faggot.”_

Bucky winced. Obviously it was better for the abuse to get shouted at the escorts rather than the patients, but he could do without slurs being thrown around. He’d been called some shit here himself, especially when people noticed his disability, and he wasn’t going to lie and say it had never affected him, but you needed a thick skin to be an escort and he had no idea if this guy had what it took.

“I’d say something about everyone having a right to life, but I just know y’all would take that the wrong way,” the new guy said in a faintly amused tone of voice. He didn’t sound even slightly bothered by her insult, though it wasn’t like Bucky knew him well enough to tell if he was faking his unconcern or not.

“How dare you speak to me with that tone? I know my Bible, and I know that the Lord has chosen me to do his work. You should have some respect!”

“Oh, wait, ma’am. S’cuse me, but I have to ask you to take your clothes off.” The line was delivered with such a matter-of-fact tone that it took Bucky a second to realise what had actually been said.

The woman spluttered, mostly incoherently but Bucky definitely made out the word ‘upstart’ somewhere in there. Bucky glanced round quickly, not wanting to take his eyes off Dee for long, and even in the brief glimpse he caught he could tell that the guy wasn’t about to back down anytime soon.

“Your sign, ma’am. Says ‘The Lord’s word is the only word.’ But you must have slipped up a bit when you got dressed this morning, ‘cause I see your fine coat there has some mixed fabrics in. And that ain’t right, not according to your God.” He paused to listen to her swear at him, then: “I’m just lookin’ out for you, ma’am. Wouldn’t want anyone to call you a hypocrite or nothin’.”

Holy shit. Holy _shit._ This guy was the gutsiest little fucker Bucky had ever laid eyes on. He suddenly had a horrible desire to laugh as he pictured the expression on the uptight woman’s face, but he stamped it down and focused on getting Dee inside as quickly as she could manage it.

“And is that a tattoo I see there, sir?” Bucky was hoping that comment was directed at the burly guy with the straight edge tats; he’d seen him around here before - usually trying to get up in someone’s face - and he hated his guts. 

“My, the good Lord’s gotta be real ashamed right now.” the little guy continued, voice rising up above any noises of protest. “Leviticus 19:28, jeez, don’t y’all read your Bibles?”

Just as Bucky was opening the door to the clinic, he heard the best sound in the world. Dee had slipped her headphones off and had clearly heard the last couple of things that had been said. And, quietly but distinctly, Bucky had heard her let out a little laugh as they made their way inside.

After handing Dee over to her doctor, he waited in the lobby for a minute to try and lose some of the nervous energy that always built up inside him in situations like this one. Soon enough May and the guy whose name Bucky now wanted to know even more came in.

“Hey, Barnes. Nice work out there,” May said, looking as unruffled as ever despite having had more than a few not-so-choice insults screamed into her face not five minutes ago.

“Not so bad yourself,” Bucky said, before turning to the third person in the room. “And you - _fuck._ Good job. You made Dee laugh, you know.”

“Aw, really? Glad to hear that.” The guy’s accent was definitely a New York one, and it was a lot softer now they were inside. Bucky guessed that he’d been playing it up for the group outside, putting on a bit of a show. 

“Nice to see you again,” Bucky said, which got him a pointed look off May. She always managed to make him feel like he was hiding something. He’d thought more than once that she and Natasha would get along well, but he also found the idea of the two of them in the same room together more than a little terrifying. Natasha had joined him here a couple of times, but not often enough to get to know the place.

“You too,” the guy said, sounding sincere. “Hey, maybe our third meeting won’t be one where someone’s at risk of getting a black eye?”

Was that a hint that they should make plans to meet up? Bucky was so out of practice when it came to regular social interactions. 

“Well, as entertaining as this has been, I have to go man the reception desk while Maria swears at her paperwork,” May interrupted. “Barnes, Steve, well done. See you later.”

“Steve, huh? Nice to put a name to the face I saved from a black eye.” Bucky hoped Steve picked up on his joking tone.

“Hey! It wasn’t me that was gonna - oh, you’re messing with me. Sorry. I’ve been told I can be a bit, um, confrontational?”

“You? Never!” Bucky was feeling almost high. Were they flirting? It kind of felt like they were flirting, just a bit.

“And you’re Barnes? That’s a new one.”

“God, no. Barnes is my last name. I’m Bucky.”

“That’s still a new one,” Steve said, sounding amused.

“Okay, okay. Technically I’m James Buchanan Barnes. But please just call me Bucky, yeah?”

Steve’s expression softened and he looked almost sad for a moment. “Of course. I know a bit about choosing your own name myself. Steven Grant Rogers here. Pleasure to officially meet you, Bucky.”

“Same to you. Oh, man. That was the best show I’ve seen out there since my friend Natasha came along with me and started whispering real calmly about all the ways she knows to kill a man. Tall guy, with the tattoos, you know? Yeah, she said something to him and he didn’t talk for a half hour.”

“Wow. I would have liked to see that.”

“Trust me, you were something yourself. Hey, were you pulling those Bible quotes out of your ass or are they the real thing?”

“Why, Bucky, don’t you trust me? Yeah, no, they’re all in there for real.”

“That makes it even better then. Bunch of fucking hypocrites, that lot. How come you even knew all that stuff?”

Steve shrugged, looking every bit the innocent angel that Bucky knew he most definitely wasn’t. “Eh, Catholic upbringing has to be good for something, right?” His expression turned darker. “Anyway, my ma was as religious as they come and she would have said a whole lot worse than I did about that lot out there. She came over here from Ireland, and you should hear some of her convent stories. Well, only if you want to cry your heart out.”

Bucky winced. “I’ve heard a few things, yeah. Time are changing, I guess, just not fast enough.”

“Are you a Bob Dylan fan?” Steve sounded excited, but it took Bucky a moment to realise why Steve had randomly asked that. 

“Actually, I am, though that was an accidental reference. I don’t know a whole lot of his songs, but I like the ones I know.”

“Oh, man. If you ever want to hear a few more I’ve got the starts of a nice collection going.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, hoping it came off as intriguing and sexy rather than as him not being to control his own face. “Why, Steve, are you asking me to come up and see your record collection?”

Steve laughed, a beautiful sound that made his whole body move with it. “You know, I’m an artist. I could probably even rustle up a few etchings if you’d like to take a look sometime?”

“Well, how can I resist such a gentlemanly offer?” Bucky laughed as well, then straightened up. “Seriously though, any chance I can get your number? I’d definitely be up for some new Dylan songs. And maybe a coffee?”

Steve paused, looking uncertain now that Bucky was actually being clear about his intentions. 

“Um, yeah, sure. I’ll put it in your phone. Text me so I have yours? I’m going to go check when Maria’s going to be done, we haven’t finished all my new paperwork yet.”

He took Bucky’s phone, tapped away at it with an ease Bucky was slightly jealous of, and then handed it back with a shy smile. It looked cute on him, but _shy_ wasn’t really something Bucky would have associated with Steve after their interactions so far. 

He was looking forward to seeing what else might be revealed once they got to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Bucky and Steve are both clinic escorts at Planned Parenthood, which is where this chapter is set. There are a group of protesters who use slurs, harassment, and very offensive language aimed at people who choose to have an abortion. If you don't want to read this chapter it's no problem, you should be able to pick the story up easily in Chapter 3.
> 
> I did do research into clinic escorting, and read a few first-person accounts, but they understandably contradicted each other a bit since they were from different PP branches. So I sort of mixed them together and added in some wireless headphones; hopefully this chapter isn't too far from accurate.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which a mildly awkward phone conversation is held, and certain things are revealed.
> 
> Still unbetaed, so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes!

* * *

Steve was absolutely not panicking. 

“Steve, stop panicking. Breathe, man.” 

Sam’s voice was as calm as always, which did actually help Steve feel better. He knew he was making a big deal out of nothing. But, well, it had been four days - four and a half, shut _up,_ brain - since he and Bucky had officially met, and while Steve didn’t actually want him to call, it had been starting to piss him off that he hadn’t.

Which was not irrational in the slightest, no matter what Sam said.

“I am breathing!”

“Well could you breathe a little less like your asthma’s about to make a dramatic return? You could always call him, you know.”

Steve did know, mostly because Sam had pointed this out several times already. 

“I don’t actually want to see him again, I just don’t get why he said he wanted to meet up and then never got in touch. It’s rude!”

Sam rolled his eyes and made a grab for Steve’s phone, which was only successful because Steve was distracted by thinking about the way strands of Bucky’s hair had been escaping from his ponytail and falling into his face.

“Hey! Give it back!”

“I’m sorry, but I have to go meet Riley for dinner and I don’t want to leave you looking like a teenager without a date to the prom.”

Sam handed the phone back and with a sinking feeling in his stomach Steve saw that he had called Bucky. Sam stepped neatly out of the way and made his way to the door of Steve’s apartment just as Steve was contemplating if breaking his phone by throwing it at his best friend’s head would be worth it.

Just as the door clicked shut, there was the unmistakable sound of someone picking up the other end of a call. Still breathing slightly too fast, Steve held the phone up to his ear, mentally crossing his fingers that Bucky wouldn’t mind the interruption to his day.

“Steve, hi! I was going to call you tonight, nice timing.”

How was he supposed to know if that was true?

“Um, hi. I guess I beat you to it?” Aided by Sam, anyway, but that wasn’t vital information.

Bucky laughed. “I actually wanted to call the same day but my friend Nat made me do that dumb three day rule thing.”

“It’s been four days.” Shit. Why did he say that? Now it sounded like he’d been hovering by his phone waiting for Bucky to get in touch.

“No it hasn’t? I always do PP on Wednesdays.”

“Okay, but it’s Sunday now?”

There was a long pause. 

“Fuck me, you’re right. Man, I’m sorry. Work’s been real busy the last few days, I lost track.”

He did sound genuinely apologetic, but Steve was still a bit wary. “Oh, no worries. Just wanted to see how you were, I guess.”

“I’m good, yeah. Bit tired but I’ve got tonight off. You?”

“I’m fine. Work’s been fairly quiet for me the past few days, so.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“Graphic design. We completed a big project last week so we’re just tying up a few loose ends now and getting on with some smaller stuff.”

“Cool! I love all that kind of stuff, I’m crap at it though.”

“It’s not that hard with practice.” Well, that was a massive lie. It had taken Steve ages to create graphics that didn’t look like a five-year-old drawing in Microsoft Paint; artistic ability didn’t necessarily translate to being good at graphic design, but it was an easier field to get a job in than fine art.

“Ah, I’m probably too lazy to put the effort in.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Steve decided to turn the conversation back to Bucky. “So what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m just a bouncer at this shitty bar downtown. Nothing special.”

For some reason Steve was surprised by that, though on reflection he didn’t know why. Bucky had been great at Planned Parenthood, and he could obviously handle himself in a fight if their first meeting was any indicator. 

“How did you get into that?” Steve asked. He was going to ignore the obvious self-deprecation in Bucky’s voice when he talked about his job. For now, anyway.

“Security agencies hire a lot of ex-army. Friend put me in touch with this bar, and for some reason they hired me even with, you know, the arm thing.”

“You’re a vet? And I’m not sure what you mean by the arm thing, sorry.”

Of course Bucky was a vet. Because Steve was apparently incapable of having anyone in his life that hadn’t put their life on the line for their country.

“Um, yeah. Not that I lasted long. Got blown up a few weeks into my first tour.” Bucky paused for long enough for Steve to feel terrible about bringing it up, then continued: “Steve, did you seriously not notice that I only have one arm?”

Oh, shit. He couldn’t really say that he’d been too distracted by Bucky’s face to notice much else. This was only their third conversation, and while it was slightly less awkward than Steve had expected for a surprise phone call, he still thought he would have preferred to do this in person.

“Sorry! I think you were wearing gloves, though, in my defence. I’m assuming you have a prosthetic? Either that or I’m the most unobservant person ever, which wouldn’t be great seeing as I’m an artist.”

“Ah, you could be right. I wear them a lot, and I guess the prosthesis is the right shape and all that. Not good for much else, but it cuts down the staring.”

Bucky sounded pretty down now, and Steve was starting to hate himself for accidentally starting them on a conversation topic that he doubted was one Bucky had wanted to talk about.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. You fought for your country, the least you deserve is privacy.”

Bucky laughed, but it cut off abruptly. It had sounded more bitter than actually amused. “Barely. Don’t know if I should even call myself a vet, some days. That IED was my first real bit of action, and look where I ended up.”

Well, that just made Steve angry. Not at Bucky, but at whatever people or insecurities were making him feel that way. 

“Don’t say that! You - I have so much respect for anyone that makes that kind of sacrifice. Really. Thank you, for your service.”

Bucky laughed softly. “Alright, Mr America. You’re welcome, I guess.”

Steve suddenly felt a desire to share something about himself in return, but he wanted to move off the topic of the army since Bucky clearly wasn’t that comfortable talking about it. And now that he thought about it, this was the perfect moment to find out if that thing that was usually a dealbreaker with people Steve tried to date would be one this time.

He was hesitant, though. He really liked the impression he'd got of Bucky so far, and he didn’t want anything to be over before it had even had a chance to get started. But he knew that he had to find out sometime, and the more he liked someone the more he would be disappointed if they let him down.

“So, I didn’t see your arm,” Steve began, hoping he sounded less nervous than he was. “Sorry again. But, um. Can I ask if you noticed anything about me?”

“Steve, it’s fine. Not like I advertise it. Kind of nice to know I pass as a regular person with all their limbs. And what kind of thing do you mean?”

Steve had flinched slightly at the word _pass._ Which was a completely reasonable word for Bucky to have used in that context. It just brought up some things he’d rather not be thinking about right now. He pushed down those thoughts and tried to focus.

_Just say it, Steve,_ he told himself. _Band-aid method._

“Do you know I’m trans?”

He held his breath. Why was it that this moment never got any easier the more he had to go through it? 

“Well, I didn’t for sure. But I kind of wondered, yeah. It doesn’t make any difference to me, if you were worried about that.” Bucky sounded like he meant that, though Steve’s chest still felt tight. He’d had people act like they were fine with it and then turn around and say something in the next breath - or worse, weeks or months later - that made him feel like his chest had been flayed open.

Still, Bucky’s reaction was good so far, and Steve didn’t want to question it too much. 

“Okay, great. Great. I’m never - I can’t really tell how obvious it is.”

“Well, it was more the way we met than anything about how you look, you know? I mean, I guess you could have been a gay man instead of a trans man, but the whole bathroom laws thing made me figure it was the second one.”

“I could still be a gay man,” Steve said sharply. “I mean, I’m bi. But I’m still a man either way.”

“Fuck, sorry!” Bucky sounded upset. “That honestly wasn’t what I meant! I just - I was trying to say, like, you could have been a gay not-trans dude, I didn’t want to assume either way. I just thought that sounded really awkward. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Steve hesitated, not sure if it really was okay or if he just wanted to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt. He decided that it was probably a combination of the two. “I should probably warn you, I can be a bit, um. Over-sensitive? About stuff like this. Oh, and there already is a word for people that aren’t trans, it’s cisgender. Just so you know.”

“Hey, hey, you should not be the one feeling bad here. Just ‘cause I didn’t mean it the way it sounded doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have called me out. I’ll remember that - cisgender, yeah? - for the future.”

“Right, thanks.”

“And trust me, I can get pretty defensive about my arm sometimes. I’m not saying I get what’s it’s like for you, obviously. Just, yeah.”

“Yeah.” Wow. This was definitely getting too heavy for a conversation they were having before they’d even gone on a date. Not that Steve was assuming Bucky wanted to go on a date. Especially not now.

Bucky made an unhappy sound. “Aw, I’ve fucked this up already, haven’t I.” It clearly wasn’t a question.

Steve waited for a moment to make sure that he really did still want to get to know Bucky. It wasn’t a very long deliberation.

“No, no you haven’t. I’m just, well, not really used to this.”

“This as in talking on the phone? Or this as in dating?” Bucky’s tone sounded lighter now, which Steve was glad to hear. And he had used the word dating so casually, which helped Steve relax as well.

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“Well, I hoped maybe? Or if not, I could always use a friend that doesn’t have any pet tarantulas lying around the house.”

“Wow, your friends sound terrifying. Definitely no spiders here, at least not that I know of. And yeah, I was kind of hoping for that as well.”

“Great! So, when are you free?” 

Oh shit, this was actually happening. Steve was about to plan a date with a guy he’d been weirdly drawn to since they’d first met. Admittedly, that meeting had involved more shouting than Steve would have preferred for a first encounter with a potential - well, a potential something - but Steve had still come away from it with a lot of questions about the random stranger that had stopped to defend him.

“I have pretty regular shifts,” Steve said. “Monday to Friday, and I’m usually done by six. So it’s up to you, really.”

“Lucky you, my hours are all over the place. And I mostly work nights, obviously, so that’s annoying. Well, tonight I’m off but if I’m being honest I was just going to catch up on sleep? I know that sounds really bad! I’ve just barely slept the past few days and I don’t really want to pass out on you on our first date.”

Bucky honestly sounded nervous that Steve would reject him based on his working patterns, which made Steve think that he probably wasn’t the only one who was feeling a bit insecure about maybe starting a new relationship. That shouldn’t have made him feel better, but it did.

“That’s totally fine. When’s your next night off then?”

“Thursday?”

“That works for me. Um, what do you want to do?” God, was setting up dates always this awkward? It wasn’t like he had much experience. Maybe he should ask Sam for advice. He would just have to tune out the several hundred _I told you so_ comments.

“Well, dinner would be nice. Or we could just grab a drink somewhere?”

“Dinner sounds good,” Steve said before he’d thought it through. “Um, but I have some food allergies.” 

“You pick the place then?” Bucky didn’t seem bothered by the allergies thing. Another good sign.

“There’s an Italian place about a block away from Planned Parenthood that I’ve been to a few times.”

“I love Italian, perfect. And I know the one you mean, I walk past it on my way there. You said you finish at six, right? Will you want to go back home first?”

“Yeah, just to drop off my work stuff and get changed. But I don’t live far from there, so I could meet you at half seven or so.”

“Okay, awesome. I’m looking forward to it.” Bucky did sound enthusiastic, actually, which make something in Steve relax a little.

“You too. Ah, it was nice to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I’m real glad you called.” 

Should Steve admit that it had been Sam that had made the phone call? Probably not. He had managed to get through a conversation and arrange a date without fucking up, he didn’t want to jinx anything.

“Same here. See you Thursday then.”

“Bye, Steve.”

Steve hung up and didn’t move for a second. He could feel a giant, ridiculous smile spreading over his face, and he had to resist the urge to call Sam to tell him how well it had gone. Even the inevitable _I told you so’s_ wouldn’t dampen his mood right now. It had been so long since he had really dated someone, and there was something about Bucky that made him even more nervous than usual.

Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in the end note for Chapter 1, Bucky has some things to learn when it comes to trans issues and how to be an ally. The important thing is to be open to learning, listening, and educating yourself, everyone starts somewhere!
> 
> Thank you for reading! This fic is very close to my heart and I still can't quite believe I actually finished a piece of writing, so I love seeing that there are people following it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date night! 
> 
> If you want a mini soundtrack while Bucky is talking about the music he likes, try this playlist: [Symphonic Metal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lN8J-CBU_8&list=PL79YZuGmB1q0zFB3E6PpTlOeiGSif8YKK)
> 
> And for Steve's music: [Dark Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLEkrS0CWK8) sung by Bob Dylan and Patti Smith (it's a live performance and the camera wobbles a lot, so maybe minimise it if you get disoriented easily) , plus the Billie Holiday song [I'll be seeing you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AlylMhav7w) (or any of her songs, I picked that one because it contains the lyric 'everything that's light and gay').

* * *

Fuck. How was it Thursday already? Bucky could swear that it had only been yesterday he’d been talking to Steve on the phone. And wow, that conversation had been one that he should probably replay in his mind before tonight. There had been a few more big reveals than he’d been anticipating when he’d seen Steve’s name flash up on the screen.

Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing, though. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t have had to talk about all that shit at some point; it was kind of nice to have it out of the way. Well, some of it. There were still more than a few things that Bucky thought Steve should probably be aware of, but they could definitely wait until after they were officially dating.

Speaking of, he only had a few hours before he should be setting off to the restaurant. Lately he seemed to either barely sleep or pass out for twelve hours at a time. He highly doubted it was a healthy routine, but at least it kept him mostly functional.

He mentally planned out the rest of the afternoon. He could go for a run, come back and shower, and still have a good chunk of time reserved for picking out clothes and warding off any potential anxiety attacks. Sorted.

Four and a half hours later, hair freshly washed and wearing black jeans, a white dress shirt and his leather jacket, he stood outside _Trattoria_ and tried very hard to focus on his breathing. 

In. Out. In - oh, for fuck’s sake, all this was making him do was think of sex. Not helpful at all.

Sex was still not far enough from his mind when he saw Steve walking towards him. He was dressed in skin-tight pale blue jeans and a red blazer with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. When he got closer Bucky could see that he was wearing a very thin white t-shirt underneath - and was that a _chest tattoo_ he could faintly see through it?

He quickly moved his gaze up to Steve’s face, only to see that he was wearing eyeliner. Well, that did it. Bucky only stopped himself from getting hard by remembering all the reasons he had to be nervous about this.

“Hi, Bucky,” Steve said with a little wave. Fuck, he was unfairly cute. Bucky wouldn’t call himself a people person at the best of times, and this situation was already testing him.

“Hey. You, ah, you look good.” Smooth, Barnes.

“Thanks. You too.” Was Steve _blushing?_ Oh, good lord. Time to take some control of the situation.

Bucky held open the door of the restaurant and waved Steve through, only realising afterwards that the gesture could have been taken as something more offensive than simple politeness. Steve didn’t say anything, though, and they were quickly seated with drinks in front of them.

“So, how’ve you been?” Steve sounded like he was in a good mood, which helped Bucky feel more relaxed.

“Ah, not so bad. Work’s same as always, too many drunk assholes getting up in my face.”

“What do you do outside of work?”

That was a very normal question to ask someone, and there was no reason Bucky should get defensive about it. He had to take a moment to remind himself of that before he spoke.

“This and that. Planned Parenthood once a week. I go running when I’m up to it. Hang out with my friends when they’re in the mood to behave like human beings.” He shrugged, wishing he had a better answer. “Honestly, I haven’t been doing that much since I got back. This is the first date I’ve been on in a while.”

Steve actually looked pleased at that. “Me too. And I’m guessing my version of a while is even longer than yours.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Um. I’ve only really dated one person before? And he was - well, I’d rather not talk about it. But it didn’t last long.” 

“Aw, sorry to bring up bad memories.” Bucky really did feel bad. Were he and Steve capable of having a conversation that didn’t turn serious within five minutes?

“Not your fault, I brought it up. And I’d rather you know I’m not very, well, experienced.”

Bucky didn’t quite catch the pained expression that he knew had shown on his face at hearing Steve say that. Luckily, their server approached them at that exact moment, asking them if they were ready to order.

They both realised at the same time that neither of them had so much as glanced at the menu. Bucky quickly looked down and selected the first pasta dish that wasn’t spaghetti - trying to eat spaghetti with one hand was not something he wanted to attempt on a first date - and Steve had clearly known in advance what he wanted because he rattled off a pizza option with a few substitutions, ending with an apology and a smile that Bucky didn’t think anyone could resist returning.

Either the server was no more immune to Steve’s charms than Bucky or she was just good at customer service, because she smiled back at them and then fetched them their bread basket even though another couple was waving at her to bring them the bill.

Hopefully that little interruption had made Steve forget what they had been discussing a few minutes earlier.

“So,” Steve began. “I’m guessing you’re a fair bit more experienced than me?” 

Damn. Well, he wasn’t going to lie. He thought he could really like Steve once they got to know each other, and he didn’t want a potential relationship to start with him hiding something like this.

“Honestly? Depends if you mean dating experience, or, well. Sex. If you mean the first one, I’m about as clued up as you. The second one - saying yes would probably be an understatement, I’m not going to lie.”

Steve looked a bit anxious. “Ah, right. Each to their own, I guess.” At least he wasn’t judging Bucky, though he didn’t seem all that relaxed.

“It’s not my thing anymore, though. Casual sex, I mean.”

Steve seemed happier at that. “Me too. Well, technically that’s how I had sex the first few times, but in general I’m looking for a relationship more than just something, y’know, physical.”

“Cool. But now you’ve made me curious about those first times.”

He was trying to keep his tone light and a little flirtatious, and he hoped he’d succeeded when Steve smiled at him before he answered.

“My best friend from high school, Peggy. She was an exchange student and she had to go back to the UK after a year, but we’re still in touch.”

“So it was a friends with benefits kind of thing, then?”

“Sort of. We were both trying to figure out our sexuality - this was when I was sixteen, she was seventeen - and things just kind of happened from there, I guess. We didn’t speak for a while after she figured out she was gay, which was my fault.”

“How come?”

“I thought she had just been attracted to me because, well, this was before I started on T - testosterone, sorry - or got any surgery done. And we’d been hooking up every so often and then she tells me she’s pretty sure she’s a lesbian. It made me feel like she wasn’t seeing me as a guy.”

“But she knew, right? That you were trans, I mean.”

“Oh yeah, course. Everyone knew. I’ve been out since I was like eight.”

Wow. That took guts. Which didn’t surprise Bucky at all; it actually fitted in perfectly with what he knew about Steve so far. But still.

“That must have been hard.” He was sure that was a huge understatement, but he wasn’t sure how else to respond.

“Well, yeah. But not as bad as living as a girl would have been. And it kind of helped that I was really young when me and my ma started telling people officially. I was just the weird kid from the beginning in school, it wasn’t like I suddenly had to turn around and tell everyone I was male.”

“You’re making me feel kinda bad.” Bucky laughed to show he didn't really mean it, but there had actually been some truth behind his words. He still got nervous about telling people he was bi, and he tended to avoid the subject unless he was asked directly. And here was Steve talking about something he’d been dealing with for pretty much his entire life.

“I still feel like I’m going to throw up every time I tell someone I’m trans,” Steve admitted. “I’ve had every reaction you can think of. Most of them haven’t been too bad, but I still build it up in my head every time.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t imagine. It really doesn’t make a difference to how much I like you, if that helps.” In a way, it maybe even made him like Steve more. That level of courage was something to be admired, and Bucky had always been attracted to bravery. 

“I might need to hear that a few times before I believe it, but thanks,” Steve said. “And I’m sure you _can_ imagine it to some extent. You’re queer - ah, sorry, I know some people don’t like that word - and I’m guessing you’ve had more than a few awkward conversations about having a disability as well.”

Bucky pushed his hair back from his face. He wished he could have tied it back, but the only clip he’d been able to use one-handed had broken the other day, and he hadn’t had the chance to go buy a new one yet.

“True, you’re right about that. I’m fine with queer, yeah. I mean, I’m bi, but queer works as well. I actually hate that there isn’t a good umbrella word that hasn’t been used as a slur.”

“Oh, I know! Like, I love that the acronym is really inclusive, you can just keep adding new letters to make sure every identity is represented, but it’s _so_ awkward to use in a sentence.”

“Hi, nice to meet you. Are you LGBTQIAP plus, by the way?” Bucky said in a pretend-formal voice. “It really is. And I still feel like I forgot a letter.”

Just then, their server arrived with their plates, and they were both occupied with their food for a while. Bucky’s pasta was actually really good, so it was a shame he couldn’t remember what the name of the dish had been. Steve’s pizza looked a bit odd without the cheese, but he seemed happy with it.

Between bites, Bucky steered the conversation to lighter topics, and they ended up spending most of the meal discussing music.

“Alright, alright!” Steve said, rolling his eyes at Bucky but with a smile on his face that made the look a joking one rather than actual exasperation. “If you make me a mix CD, I promise to give your weird screamo music a proper listen.”

Bucky made what he hoped was an expression of fake outrage in response. “Screamo? That’s completely different! Once I’ve got you hooked on symphonic metal you’re never going back, trust me.”

“Okay then, mix CD me. And you gotta do the artwork as well.”

“I feel like I’m thirteen again, and not in a nice, nostalgic way. You sure you don’t want a tape? Go back to the real good old days.”

Steve laughed. “I would appreciate the hell out of a mix tape, but I genuinely don’t think I know anyone who could play that now. I love technology, but it’s weird to think about how fast it’s moving.”

“It really is. Makes you wonder what’s coming up in the future,” Bucky said. “Oh, and if I’m making a mix I want one from you too. Only fair.”

“Sure!” Steve actually sounded enthusiastic at the idea. “I can put a few Dylan songs on that you might not have heard. And, hmm, definitely Patti Smith, maybe some Billie Holiday.”

“Leave me at least a bit of suspense here.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t give up all the good stuff at once.” 

Was that - that was definitely innuendo, right? He looked up to see Steve sucking on the straw of his Coke and decided that yes, there was no way that had been an accidental choice of words. Fucker.

He didn’t have a chance to think of a good reply; the server came over to clear their plates and Steve asked for the bill when she offered to bring them the dessert menu. That made Bucky feel unsure. He had thought the date was going pretty well, and he was full from his pasta but he definitely had some room left for a little something sweet. Damn, that could have been a line to use on Steve - more to make him laugh than as a serious attempt at flirting. He was finding that one of his new favourite things to do was make Steve laugh.

“There’s a real nice gelato stand around the corner,” Steve said, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts. “And they do non-dairy sorbet, if you’re not sick of me yet?”

Bucky smiled in relief. “Gelato sounds awesome.”

Half an hour later, as they were walking through the streets of Brooklyn, Bucky felt something knock into his left side. He couldn’t tell what it was so he glanced down to see Steve’s hand quickly pulling back. 

Steve’s face was a picture: a mix of apologetic and confused.

“Did you just try to hold my fake hand?” Bucky was trying to keep a straight face, and he thought he’d succeeded when Steve started looking guilty.

“No! Well, yes, but - I forgot! Not forgot exactly, it was just automatic and, fuck, sorry.”

Bucky couldn’t keep his expression neutral any longer. He opened his mouth to reply and instead started laughing.

“Jerk!” Steve said, punching him and then screwing up his face when he realised that once again it had been Bucky’s prosthesis he’d made contact with. Which just set Bucky off even more.

“Jesus. I haven’t laughed like that in - well, in a long time.”

That made Steve smile cautiously, and Bucky decided there was no way he could wait any longer. He pulled Steve to the side of the street, turned to face him, and then ducked his head down so that their lips were only a few inches away from touching.

“I had such a good time tonight,” Bucky said softly. “I really want to see you again, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes were wide, but he looked determined as hell. “Me too,” he said, and then he reached up and tangled his hand in Bucky’s hair, drawing them closer and closer together until _finally_ they were kissing, only quick kisses in-between breaths, neither of them pushing for more, and Bucky realised that he never wanted this night to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff because the next chapter gets a bit angsty. Let me know if you like the music recommendations as well because I'd be happy to include more in later chapters.
> 
> The issue of the 'alphabet soup' initialism is a personal annoyance of mine. I feel a little bad if I say something like LGBTQ, because that doesn't give everyone equal weighting. But I can't use LGBTQIAP+ in a sentence, I would just trip over it, and not very many people know the term MOGAI, which is easier to say at least. You can't really say 'non-straight and non-cis people' because that ignores aspects of the asexual and aromantic spectrums. And my preferred term for myself is queer, but I still have to be cautious about using that depending where I am because of its history as a slur - so yeah, I haven't yet found a solution that works perfectly, I would love to hear your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a bit angsty, sorry! More detailed warnings are in the end notes.

* * *

Steve hadn’t known that it was possible for him to be this happy. He hadn’t even realised that he _wasn’t_ entirely happy, before, but now when he looked back at his life before Bucky it already felt incomplete in some way, as though there had been a piece missing that he hadn’t even thought to look for. And it wasn’t just that Steve liked being in a relationship - although he really did, it was so nice to know that there was someone who would always want to spend time with him if it was possible, and with his best friends being a couple he was enjoying feeling less like a third wheel - it was that he really, really liked _Bucky._

They hadn’t found a way round their incompatible schedules yet, so for the last three weeks they had been having an evening date whenever Bucky had a night off, and Steve had been taking his lunch breaks at a cafe near work so that Bucky could at least join him for an hour most days. And their shifts at Planned Parenthood didn’t usually coincide - Steve could only get a half-day off work every so often - but when they did it was another way they got to spend time together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was working out so far. Nothing Steve had shared with Bucky had made things awkward between them, and Steve hoped Bucky felt the same way.

There was just one more thing that Steve really needed to talk to Bucky about, and he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. There had been moments in past conversations when it would have made sense, but now it seemed almost too late to bring it up in any kind of natural way. Awkward it would have to be, then.

They had quickly decided that neither of them had the spare cash to go out for dinner twice a week, so their evening dates had turned into casual film and takeaway nights at one of their apartments. Sometimes one of them would make dinner, and tonight they had decided to cook together at Steve’s place. 

It seemed like they had both silently agreed to not comment on how domestic their still new relationship had turned, but Steve was constantly aware of the ease with which they moved around each other, passing each other spices and cooking tools on request, keeping up a light stream of steady conversation about nothing in particular.

It was Bucky that gave him the perfect opening to share a bit more about himself, with a teasing line about still not knowing what Steve’s chest tattoo was.

Steve put down the knife he was using to chop tomatoes and turned around.

“I can tell you. But it might take me a while,” Steve said slowly. “Mind if we put dinner on hold?”

Bucky looked worried, but nodded in agreement. They made their way over to the couch, but instead of curling up against each other like they usually would have, they sat at opposite ends, both leaning against the armrests with their legs tangling together in the middle.

Steve twisted the fabric of his t-shirt round his thumb. He wished he’d brought over a drink or something else to keep his hands occupied.

“Hey, okay,” Bucky said. “You really don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to!” Steve winced slightly at how loud his words came out.“That’s kind of the problem. Not sure where to start.” 

Bucky smiled reassuringly at him. “Alright. Well, I’m good here, so take your time.”

“Thanks.” He couldn’t look at Bucky. This wasn’t even that big of a deal. He’d already come out as trans, this shouldn’t be anything major compared to that. It was just - he didn’t like thinking about what had happened, never mind talking about it.

Steve blew out a quick breath and decided to just try and switch his brain to autopilot mode. If he said everything fast enough, maybe he wouldn’t actually start dwelling on it. It was worth a try, anyway.

“Okay, so I only have the one tattoo,” he began. “It’s pretty much a full chest piece, which really hurt, but I needed to get it done as soon as I turned eighteen. I had to cover up - um, you know I had top surgery done, right?” He glanced up at Bucky to see him nodding.

“You mentioned surgery before and I’ve never seen you in a binder so I assumed you had, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although I’m kind of surprised you already had that done when you were eighteen. I’m guessing that was what the tattoo needed to cover?”

“Ah, yeah. You can still see the scars but you really have to know what you’re looking for. And I was really lucky with my ma. She went to about a dozen meetings and signed half a book worth of legal shit to let me get it done when I was sixteen.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve smiled at him, then looked back down at his hands. “She really was. She was incredible. Anyway, yeah, so I had to get something fast but I didn’t want it to be meaningless, you know? I wasn’t getting it for the best reasons, but it was still a major thing to get done.”

“Of course, yeah. I’ve had a tattoo myself, and I really didn’t think it through as much as I should have,” Bucky said.

Well, that was interesting. “Really? Wait, you said you’ve had one - as in you don’t anymore? Did you get it lasered off?”

Bucky had a weird expression; he looked almost embarrassed. “Ah, no. It was actually on my left arm.”

“Oh my god, no way. I’m sorry!” Fuck, there had to have been a better reaction than that.

“Hey, we were talking about you,” Bucky said, thankfully not looking offended. “It’s cool, it was a bit of a shit one anyway. The bits of yours I’ve seen look way nicer, I’m still curious about what it actually is.”

Steve hesitated, then before he could second-guess himself he pulled off his shirt and then his vest, leaving him barechested. Bucky’s mouth had literally dropped open, which Steve would have been very tempted to snap a picture of if his phone had been handy. 

He would just have to get Bucky to make that expression again some other time. Hopefully under slightly more intimate circumstances.

Steve shrugged, hopefully looking about a thousand times less nervous than he actually was. “Easier than explaining it all. Well, I still can, but you have a visual reference now to help.”

“Wow. Yeah, nice visual - um.” It sort of looked like Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off Steve’s chest, which he had to admit was incredibly flattering. Even if it was probably the tattoo that was drawing most of his attention, rather than anything about Steve’s physique.

“You ready for the grand tour, then? Not bored yet?” Steve was pleased with himself when his words came out with a slightly teasing tone, walking the line between casual flirting and something a little more serious.

“My boyfriend’s half naked in front of me for the first time and you think I might be bored? Trust me, Steve, you got my full attention.”

Bucky gave him a little smirk when he said those last words, and Steve couldn’t help his blush as he registered the potential innuendo. He decided to ignore it, though, since if they started trading dirty talk back and forth they would never finish this conversation, and he was starting to really want it to be over so they could move on to - other things.

“Alright, smartass,” he said, hoping his blush had faded. “Okay, so I know the roses just look like the main decoration, but they’re actually a reference to this old union phrase my ma told me about, from back in the beginning of the twentieth century when workers in textiles factories were striking. There’s a quote from Rose Schneiderman, who was really important to the movement, as well as feminism and socialism in general. It’s, um: ‘The worker must have bread, but she must have roses too.’ And it’s about - I mean, this is me paraphrasing a bit, but yeah - it means that if some people in the world have a right to beauty and art and culture then surely everyone does?” 

He took a breath, conscious that he had been speaking without a break for a while, and looked at Bucky. Who was looking back at him, seeming genuinely interested, and focused on his face now rather than his chest.

Steve lost his train of thought for a moment when he met Bucky’s eyes, but then picked it up again, determined to explain properly. “Like, factory owners were telling these people, mostly women, that they should be satisfied with what they already had. They had jobs and homes, and enough money for food. Never mind that they had to work twelve hour shifts doing back-breaking manual labour, for bad pay and no benefits. People tried to tell them that they could have it worse, and they shouldn’t aim higher because that wasn’t meant for - for people like them.”

He stopped talking abruptly. He had a lot more he could say on the subject, but suddenly he needed to know if Bucky understood.

Bucky waited a couple of seconds, probably to check that Steve wasn’t going to say anything more for the moment, before speaking. “I see what you mean, I think,” he said. “I like that idea. Telling people to be satisfied with what they have can be just another way to keep them oppressed, right?”

“Exactly!” Steve was more relieved than he wanted to admit that Bucky seemed to get what he was talking about. “And, I mean, it was personal for me in other ways as well. When I was nine I was told by one of my doctors to stop making my ma’s life so difficult, that I should just be happy I was getting better - I was really sick as a kid, if I didn’t already tell you that - and I shouldn’t be such an attention seeker with the whole ‘pretending to be a boy’ thing.” He swallowed, unable to look up to see how Bucky was taking his words now that he’d moved from general political ideas to stories about his own life. “And I’ve been told similar things ever since. One - one guy at college who kept misgendering me, he said I was lucky I hadn’t been, ah, raped and murdered in an alley somewhere and that he didn’t owe me anything more than that.”

Steve realised that he was dangerously close to crying, which was really not what he wanted right now. And he was suddenly feeling very naked, and not in a good way. 

He felt Bucky move closer, and startled a little when his softest blanket was draped round his shoulders. He tugged it all the way round his torso gratefully, and blinked quickly to get rid of the tears that had been threatening to fall.

“Steve?” Bucky sounded unsure, and Steve felt bad for bringing the mood down so much. “We don’t have to keep talking, but either way, um. Can I hold you?”

Yes. That sounded perfect. Steve nodded, not quite trusting his voice, and Bucky gently made him shuffle forward until there was room for Bucky to move behind him. Steve laid back on Bucky’s chest, then they wriggled their legs around until Bucky was cradling Steve with all three of his limbs.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, and they stayed there in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Bucky spoke again: “I don’t have words for how angry I am at anyone that told you anything like that, Steve. I really don’t. You - you should be able to live your life however you want. If the world owes anyone nice things, I’m fucking certain that it owes you them in spades. Being accepted for who you are, that’s not something that people can pick and choose on. That’s a basic human right. That’s - that’s fucking _bread,_ you know?”

 _I love you._ But it was too soon to say it, so instead Steve twisted round and very awkwardly wrapped his blanket-covered arms around whatever bits of Bucky he could reach.

“I didn’t even tell you the main part and I’m already a mess,” Steve said, burying his face in Bucky’s shoulder. It was partly for comfort and partly to hide any stray tears.

“It can wait, babe - oh shit, sorry. That was habit.” 

“Babe?” Steve actually hadn’t minded being called that, although he would definitely change his mind if it turned out Bucky had only called women that before.

“It’s my usual whatsit, term of endearment for people. I use it for guys too, but I’m guessing you’d rather I didn’t?” Bucky sounded like he would immediately stop using the word forever if Steve asked him to, which was nice to hear.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure that you just see me as a guy. So, thank you.”

“Course, but you shouldn’t be thanking me for that. Babe.” 

Steve laughed and snuggled closer to Bucky, only to jerk back in surprise when he felt something hard nudging between his legs. He let out a squeaking noise - which he knew he would be horribly embarrassed about later - and tried to move off Bucky’s lap, but the arm around his waist wouldn’t let him go.

“Hang on, don’t go just ‘cause my dick has a mind of it’s own,” Bucky said, sounding annoyed. “Pass me a cushion or something.”

Steve did, slightly confused, and Bucky maneouvered them so that the cushion was covering his crotch and Steve could lie down on top of him again.

“But - you don’t want me to, um. Take care of that?” Steve wouldn’t have minded, actually. He wasn’t in the mood for Bucky to do anything to him, but he was kind of curious about Bucky’s dick and he would have liked the opportunity to get his hands - literally - on it.

“No! Ignore it, it’ll go away. It’s been weird ever since Afghanistan, I have absolutely no idea why it’s picking now to join the party.”

Did all cis guys talk about their penises as though they were separate entities? Steve didn’t hate his vagina, but he definitely didn’t anthropomorphise it.

“Shouldn’t we take advantage of it then?” 

“Steve, seriously, I’m fine. I’m not even turned on, it’s just a physical reaction. Like your nipples getting hard when it’s cold out.”

“Well, now I feel like I should be offended.”

Bucky sighed. “You’re sexy without being aware of it, and very cute. And you’re shirtless and sat on top of me. But you were also crying five minutes ago and I’m comfy right now. I honestly just want to ignore it until it goes away.”

“Alright. Sorry for pushing. I’m happy here as well.” It was true, Steve felt almost like he could fall asleep here, lying on Bucky with almost every inch of their bodies connected in some way.

“Okay, good. And just so you know, I am very, very attracted to you. All the time. But I don’t want our first time - if we have one - to be when we’re both kind of emotional and maybe not thinking clearly.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean, if we have one?”

“I didn’t want to assume we were going to have sex. I mean, asexual people exist, and even if you’re not I thought maybe, well. You might not be as comfortable with it because of your, you know?”

Aw. 

“My vagina?” Steve laughed. “It’s okay, you can say it. Ain’t a curse word, and I know some trans guys prefer not to call it that but I’m alright with it.” He paused for a moment, trying to get his head in order. “You’re right, in a way. And it means so much to me that you thought of that. Are you saying you’d be okay with waiting for a while?”

“That should be a given,” Bucky said. “Like, obviously we’re waiting until we’re both one hundred percent on board. Or we can always do stuff without the slot A into slot B thing.”

“Penetration?” Steve asked dryly, ignoring the flash of panic that hit him at the thought.

“Hey, I like my euphemisms. And, so you know, if we never get physical at all I can live with that just fine. I’ve been celibate since the accident anyway, so.”

“Really? You told me you had a lot of experience.”

“Mmm. Yeah.” Bucky sounded hesitant, and Steve was curious but he didn’t want to push.

“Sorry, would you rather not talk about it?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I, well, I’m not gonna dance around it, I fucked around a lot when I was a teenager. First time was when I was fourteen, and I don’t even know the exact number of people I’ve slept with.” Bucky sounded resigned as he talked about it, which made Steve’s chest ache. “Sorry if you find that gross, or whatever.”

“No! I could never, Buck. I’m just sort of...I don’t know, a bit sad and worried for your teenage self. Not that it does any good now. But I swear I would never judge you for anything like that.”

“They all consented,” Bucky said.

“You didn’t need to clarify that, I wasn’t even thinking they might not have - wait, when you say _they_ all consented?” Steve’s heart was beating faster and he felt slightly ill at the thought of what Bucky might be implying. 

“Hey, no, no, nothing like that. I wasn’t in the best place, and I made a lot of decisions I probably shouldn’t have, but they were my decisions. I wouldn’t call it the healthiest way to go about meeting people, but I wasn’t ever - I mean, at the time, I wanted it. Not for the right reasons, but yeah, don’t worry.”

Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He still felt sad when he thought about a younger Bucky feeling like endless one night stands were the best way to go about finding physical intimacy, but he wasn’t going to be judgemental. And he was so glad that it hadn’t been anything worse than that.

“Actually, Steve?” Bucky spoke again, still not sounding quite like his usual self.

“Yeah?”

“Speaking of consent, I’m a bit upset that you felt the need to check if I was okay with waiting for you to be ready? I feel like that should have been obvious.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Christ, yes.” Bucky sounded genuinely worried, and Steve wanted to make that go away but he wasn’t sure how. He hadn’t meant to offend Bucky, he was just surprised that a cis guy - oh. He knew exactly where his fears had been coming from. Now to decide whether he wanted to share them with Bucky or not.

He already knew he was going to. He trusted Bucky, and he didn’t like thinking about it too much but he was pretty sure that this was going to be relevant again at some point in the future.

“Sorry. I think it was because of my ex. I’ve only had sex with two people, and me and Peggy were both really up for it so there wasn’t much of a discussion.”

Steve could feel Bucky’s arm tighten around him. Surprisingly, it didn’t make him feel trapped, which he would have predicted. It actually made him feel safe.

“I’m trying really hard not to jump to conclusions here, babe,” Bucky said, sounding tense, and Steve replayed his words back in his mind to see what Bucky was getting at.

“He didn’t - okay, this is weird, we just had this conversation about you!”

“I don’t think it’s the same thing. I had a lot of sex for, well, not the best reasons, but I was very into it when it was actually happening. And, fuck - it sounds like you might not have been that into it, Steve, and I shouldn’t have to say why that’s making me upset.”

Steve didn’t know how to answer. He could see how, from an outside point of view, Bucky’s conclusions would make sense. But Brock hadn’t - no, that was ridiculous.

“I know what you’re saying,” he said slowly, not sure what he wanted to share with Bucky. “But I did want to sleep with him at the time, even though I regret it now. He kind of...persuaded me into one specific thing, but we talked and we both agreed we should try it.”

Bucky made a strangled sound. “That isn’t consent, Steve! If he had to - you know this as well as I do, if you were hearing yourself talk, if this was someone else saying that, you’d be agreeing with me.”

“Okay, but I was there! I know what I’m saying because it was me it happened to. Stop twisting my words around.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky sounded frustrated, and Steve felt bad but he didn’t want to let this go yet. “I trust your judgement on it, I do. It just upsets me, thinking about someone taking advantage of you.”

“Because you’re a good person,” Steve said. “And you’re right that Brock was an asshole, but he wouldn’t have gone that far. He was just, um, very into the idea of having sex with me. Which made me uncomfortable.”

“You’ve lost me there,” Bucky said, sounding confused.

“Oh right, I phrased that badly. I mean he was really into the idea of fucking, well, a trans guy with a vagina. He wasn’t like, into me specifically. I didn’t realise that till afterwards, which is why I feel a bit shit about it now. I did consent, I promise.”

Steve was very glad that he couldn’t see Bucky’s face at that moment. He could only guess at his expression from the pained noise he let out and the way his arm tightened around Steve.

“I never actually killed anyone in the army,” Bucky said, which seemed like a non sequitur to Steve. “Was kinda scared to, though I would have if it came down to it. But right now I really, really want to shoot your ex in the head.” Ah, so it hadn’t been such a random thing to say after all.

“I don’t have a clue where he is now and I want it to stay that way,” Steve said. “But thank you for the thought, I guess?”

Bucky laughed, though it didn’t sound like a particularly sincere sound. “Anytime, Stevie. I’m so fucking sorry you went through that. What an asshole.”

“Um, yeah. He really was.” Should he tell Bucky the last little detail of his relationship with Brock? 

“Why does it sound like there’s something you’re leaving out?”

Oh. Well, he kind of had to say something now, and he was finding that he really didn’t want to lie to Bucky, even by omission.

“You know when we met at Planned Parenthood? That was my first shift volunteering after a two year break. Me and my ma used to help out there. But, um. Then I was kind of a patient there, after Brock I mean, and it felt a bit weird working with everyone after that?” 

“Oh, shit, I’m - I don’t know what to say.” Bucky sounded kind of choked up, and Steve winced as he remembered what everyone’s immediate thoughts were when anyone mentioned Planned Parenthood.

“Wait, not what you’re thinking! Probably, I mean.” He paused, but realised there was no way he could stop there. “I didn’t have an abortion there, that wasn’t what I meant. It turned out to be just a scare, I went there to get tested. Brock, ah, you’re really going to want to kill him after this, but he told me he was using a condom and then didn’t.”

Bucky muttered something that sounded very much like shoot him in the fucking balls, but then shifted and pulled the cushion away from his groin.

“Well, on the bright side, my erection is definitely gone now,” Bucky said. 

Steve laughed. “I look forward to seeing it another time then.”

“Jesus, Steve, don’t just say things like that.” Bucky paused, then gently moved Steve back so that they were looking at each other again. “Seriously, though, thank you for telling me about all that. I don’t know if this applies since it was a while ago, but let me know if I can ever help with anything, yeah?”

“You’re sweet. And I’m alright now, it was just a scare. I still get tested occasionally because I’m paranoid, but I’m definitely clean.”

“Right.” Bucky looked down, and Steve immediately knew that he’d said something wrong.

“It’s okay if you’re not, though! We can just be careful, I honestly wouldn’t mind.”

“How the fuck are you real?” 

“You don’t even have to tell me either way, it’s none of my business.” Bucky looked pointedly at him as soon as he said that, and Steve rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously it might be a bit my business in the future, but I meant we can just use protection for everything and you don’t need to, um, share any details.”

“That is beyond nice of you to say. Like, I’m kind of in shock at that. Anyway, I’m one hundred percent STI-free, so it’s not an issue. But, well. You sure you want to know?”

“I want to know anything you want to tell me.”

 _Definitely not real,_ Steve heard Bucky say under his breath. 

“Alright,” Bucky said, looking horribly embarrassed. “I sort of, had crabs three times? From different people.”

He ducked down, clearly trying to hide his face, and Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head to buy himself a couple of seconds to think.

“I’m sorry you had them? I bet they’re really itchy, I got nits as a kid once and my ma had to put gloves on me so I didn’t pull my hair out. Although, bad example, because that was totally one of the best things that ever happened to me. They kept going round my school so my ma agreed to let me cut my hair short, which was awesome.” He paused, realising that he had gone off on a bit of a tangent. “But, um, I’m assuming your crabs stories didn’t also go along with something you’d been wanting forever, so I’m really sorry you had to deal with that.”

Bucky had choked on a laugh at some point in the middle of Steve’s ramble, so hopefully he wasn’t feeling too down anymore

“God, you’re fucking incredible, Steve. And I don’t have _stories_ about getting crabs, I just had them way too many times. I can’t believe you have a happy story about headlice, you weirdo.”

“You’re pretty great yourself, you know. Even if tiny insects are apparently big fans of your pubic hair.”

Bucky groaned. “You have no idea. I had the same doctor every time as well. And she was really hot! It was hell. I actually shaved everything off down there after the last time, but I stopped that pretty soon. Too much maintenance.”

“I feel like this should be a weird conversation but somehow it isn’t. Oh, wait, why did you sound like you weren’t clean before? Crabs go away with treatment, don’t they?

Bucky made a vague sound of agreement. “Yeah, yeah, I’m insect free. I wasn’t actually upset because of that. It was, um, could you maybe use a word other than clean?”

Steve felt terrible as soon as he’d processed what Bucky was saying.

“Of course! Oh, I’m so sorry, Buck. I really - I didn’t mean, you know, that having anything made you _unclean,_ I was just - sorry, there’s no excuse.”

“Babe, it’s fine. I know people that say clean don’t actually mean that the opposite makes you dirty, it just gets me down a bit. Loads of people use it, but you asked why I was bothered before, so.”

Steve kissed Bucky’s cheek, still feeling slightly bad. “Please tell me if I mess up, please. I know how much a poor choice of words can hurt people.”

“Only if you promise to always tell me when I do. Now, any more emotional revelations you got hiding in there, or should we get on with dinner?”

Steve reached over and grabbed his shirt. “Dinner, please. And, I guess I have at least one more, but it can wait.”

“Whenever you’re ready. Hey, we should try and fit that random avocado you got on your counter in, don’t want it to go off.”

“You can’t just put anything into pasta bake, Bucky, that’s not how it works. And avocado doesn’t heat up well.”

“I feel like you can, but I still burn noodles so I’ll take your word for it. Avocado salad, then? Small side of sad sliced avocado?”

Steve laughed. “That sounds like a really bad tongue twister.”

“Small - hah, yeah it does. It shouldn’t be avocado at the end though.” Bucky thought for a moment. “Okay, got it. Small side of sad sliced smoked sausage, Steve?”

 _I love you,_ Steve thought, even as he was laughing too hard to focus on rescuing the tomatoes he’d chopped earlier from falling apart. _I really do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Steve and Bucky have an emotional conversation which includes mentions of transphobia, potential sexual assault, discussions about sex and consent (this chapter is where the implied/referenced dub-con tag comes in), and mentions of STIs and abortion. 
> 
> And I didn't even get around to writing the big reveal Steve was supposed to have! That will be in Chapter 7 instead.
> 
> I first heard about the 'bread and roses' quotes from the incredible fic [Known Associates](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6292210/chapters/14418613) by [thingswithwings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings). I've been reading fanfic in various fandoms for almost a decade, and it's my second favourite fic of all time.
> 
> Some more information about the phrase and its history [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bread_and_Roses) and [here](http://www.amazingwomeninhistory.com/rose-schneiderman-labour-union-pioneer/) if you're interested.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read the tags and check the end notes for warnings if you want to be sure; they aren't really spoilery.
> 
> I got my first comment when I posted chapter 4, which gave me a ridiculous smile on my face for way too long. If you would like to be responsible for more of those smiles, comments/kudos are more than appreciated!

* * *

Bucky was bored. He’d had a shift last night but had woken up early anyway, and after a run and a shower he still felt like he was twitching in his skin, eager to get out and do something. It had been a few days since he’d seen Steve, which was probably contributing to his weird mood. Steve would be at work right now, which was annoying, but hopefully he would be able to take his lunch break a bit early and they could at least meet for an hour or so.

He hated texting and would rather have called, but he didn’t want to interrupt Steve if he was in the middle of something. So he sent a quick message:

**Bucky 10:51 : hi steveeeee**

It took a few minutes for Steve to reply, but that was probably just because he’d got absorbed in one of his odd-looking but incredible mechanical sketches.

Steve 10:57 : Hi, Bucky.

Well, that wasn’t quite the enthusiastic response he’d been hoping for. But it wasn’t like he and Steve had texted much; they usually called each other or arranged where they were going to meet in advance. Maybe Steve was just one of those people that sounded really formal when they were typing. Bucky wasn’t going to let it put him off.

**Bucky 10:58 : can i stop by for ur lucnh break if ur free?**  
Steve 10:59 : Are you the only person in the universe without predictive text?  
Steve 10:59 : And I’m working from home today so no thanks.  
**Bucky 11:00 : no smartphone, prosthetci cant do touchscreen rmbr?**  
Steve 11:00 : Oh yeah, sorry. That makes sense.  
**Bucky 11:01 : y r u using fuckin full stops steve its a text**  
Steve 11:01 : Doesn’t mean you can’t use proper grammar.  
Steve 11:02 : Or type out actual words.  
**Bucky 11:02 : its slow w one hand k?? what’s up wu?**  
Steve 11:03 : Fuck, sorry Bucky. I’m not in a great mood right now.  
Steve 11:03 : Didn’t mean to snap at you  <3  
**Bucky 11:04 : aww steve ur using emojis so proud :p**  
**Bucky 11:04 : srsly tho, u ok??**  
Steve 11:04 : I work in IT I know what emojis are.  
**Bucky 11:05 : erm u do art shit not computers but sureee**  
**Bucky 11:08 : steve?**  
Steve 11:09 : I’m really sorry, just been a shit day so far.  
Steve 11:09 : Nothing you’ve done, feel free to ignore me x  
**Bucky 11:10 : ill leave u alone if u want but im kinda worried ngl?**  
Steve 11:11 : What does ngl mean?

Aw. Steve was such an adorable troglodyte when it came to any kind of chatspeak. But that wasn’t what was on Bucky’s mind; he was starting to get really anxious about whatever it was that had got Steve feeling so down.

**Bucky 11:12 : not gonna lie. and ur avoiding me**  
Steve 11:12 : You really want to know?  
**Bucky 11:13 : duh. i care about u stevie**  
Steve 11:13 : Even when I’m being kind of an asshole?  
**Bucky 11:13 : always**  
**Bucky 11:14 : tht was not a hp ref btw**  
Steve 11:15 : I’m on my period.

Well, that was unexpected. Bucky had a lot of questions, but none that were really his business if Steve wasn’t in the mood to share more than that.

**Bucky 11:15 : aw shit babe i’m sorry**  
Steve 11:15 : And don’t lie I know you’re a massive Harry Potter nerd.  
**Bucky 11:16 : yh obv but not for snape, dude had issues**  
Steve 11:16 : Don’t we all.  
**Bucky 11:16 : omg steve don’t defend fucking snape!!**  
Steve 11:17 : Your grammar gets better when you’re emotional, that’s weird.  
Steve 11:17 : And I’m not a Snape fan don’t worry.  
**Bucky 11:18 : thankf uck i kinda like this thing we’re doing**  
**Bucky 11:19 : wouldnt want to break up over tht**  
**Bucky 11:24 : u ok?**  
Steve 11:27 : Sorry, thought I was going to throw up. Cramps suck.  
**Bucky 11:27 : :( im so sorry. wish i could help**  
Steve 11:28 : It’s okay. Actually feel a bit better now I told you.  
Steve 11:28 : Sorry again for the thing I said about your texting.  
**Bucky 11:29 : babe my txting is terrible alwys has been dw! <3**  
Steve 11:29 : <3 back :)  
**Bucky 11:30 : hey feel free to say no but can i ring u?**  
Steve 11:30 : Sure, I guess. I probably sound horrible though.  
**Bucky 11:30 : idc just wanna hear you**  
**Bucky 11:31 : k calling now xxx**

“What does idc stand for?”

“Eh? Oh, I don’t care. And hi to you too, Steve.”

Steve made a groaning sound over the phone. “Sorry, Bucky. You should probably just pretend I don’t exist for like four days.”

“Well, that’s not happening. Um, so did I somehow miss this last month? Because I’m sorry if I did. Like, sorry in hindsight or something.”

“That is definitely not an expression. And no, I don’t get them every month. I haven’t really had one in a couple of years before this. Forgot how fucking useless it makes me feel.”

“Steve! You’re the best person I know, you’re the least useless person ever. I have to say I was kind of confused, you’ve been taking testosterone for a few years now right? And I remember reading people’s, um, menstrual cycles usually stop in the first year.”

“Aw, Buck. You been reading up on me?”

“Not on you specifically! Just, you know. Trans stuff in general. Figured I should be a bit less clueless.”

“That’s actually really sweet. I don’t mind if you ask me questions, you know? I know I’m kind of defensive sometimes, but I’m okay with talking about it so long as I know whoever’s asking.”

“Well, I might take you up on that sometime. But I thought I could at least get the basics on my own, save you having to say the same thing over and over. Although now would be a good time to enlighten me some, because I’m still not really sure why you’re having to deal with this when you’re on testosterone?”

“Ah, yeah, so you’re right about T. But I used to take a really low dose because I had a ton of random stuff wrong with me as a kid, like my heart and my asthma and all that. I was fine by then but the doctor I had was new to treating trans patients so he was really cautious. And then later I had to stop for a couple months because - well, that’s a story for another time. So I still got my period fairly often till like two years ago. And this one is because - ah, sorry, am I rambling? I feel like I’m talking too much.”

“Course you’re not. I want to hear all this stuff, you know that. So long as you don’t mind telling it to me.”

“Um, okay. But stop me if it’s too much? Or if I’m boring you?”

“Not likely, babe. Anyway, you were saying why you got this one now?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Bucky was starting to wish that he’d waited to have this conversation in person. He’d really like to be face to face with his boyfriend for this talk, but maybe it was easier for Steve to tell Bucky things when he didn’t have to look him in the eye? They could work on that some other time, if that did turn out to be the case.

“Yeah, so.” Steve sounded embarrassed, and Bucky can’t think of any more ways to reassure him that he really does want to listen to everything he has to say, even if it’s about periods or injections or - well, anything really. He honestly can’t imagine not wanting to listen to anything Steve is willing to tell him.

“I had to stop taking T for a bit because I want to go back on birth control and my doctor needed to know if my cycle was still normal,” Steve said in a rush. 

Bucky let out a small choking noise that he hoped didn’t make it through to Steve.

“Sorry! I didn’t want you to - you know,” Steve said, sounding unhappy.

“I actually don’t know, Stevie. Didn’t want me to know you have a vagina? ‘Cause that isn’t news to me.”

“Didn’t want you to get your hopes up.” Steve’s voice was hard to make out, but every bit of Bucky’s attention was focused on his phone so he heard him clearly.

“Hopes? What do you - oh. Oh!” Fuck. “Fuck, Steve, I thought you trusted me a bit more than that? I’m not gonna want to stick it in you the second you start taking the pill. We had this conversation, remember? I’m fine without the p-in-v stuff, or if we never end up having sex at all. I wasn’t lying to you, okay?”

Bucky was actually a bit hurt, even though he probably didn’t have any right to be. He could see why it was so hard for Steve to believe him about anything like this. Or maybe he didn’t entirely get it, but he could understand at least some of what Steve was thinking. He hadn’t missed Steve’s vague reference to having periods a couple of years ago, and he was guessing that around then was when all the shit with Steve’s ex - who he really shouldn’t start thinking about right now, else he was going to break his remaining hand by punching the nearest wall - had gone down. 

“Sorry,” Steve said in a miserable sounding voice, except Bucky had heard a few different voices from Steve by this point, and he was pretty sure this was the _please pretend I’m not alive so I can get back to being a martyr_ kind of miserable, rather than the _I really am hurting and I don’t know what to do_ kind.

Of course, he could be wrong. It was hard to tell the exact expression Steve had on his face without seeing his face, so there was only one way to find out for sure.

“No worries,” Bucky said in a deliberately fake-cheerful tone that he knew Steve would both pick up on and be irritated by. “Hey, so can I swing by for a bit? You can still do your work, I’ll just read or watch TV.”

Steve didn’t reply with words, but the long silence that followed was probably meant as a no. Crap. Bucky wasn’t actually about to go to Steve if he really was unwanted right now, no matter how worried he was getting.

“I mean, I don’t have to,” Bucky carried on, mentally crossing his fingers. “But I could pick some food up on the way if you want?” C’mon, Steve, accept someone trying to do something nice for you for once in your fucking life.

“I am pretty hungry,” Steve admitted. “I don’t have much in the house, and I didn’t really feel like going outside.”

“Well, there’s about ten different takeaways I can think of between here and your place, so whatever you fancy. Anything else you want me to pick up for you?”

“Um.” 

“Steve. Stop making your embarrassed face. It’s cute as hell and it’s not fair for you to be doing it when I can’t see you.”

“Fuck off,” Steve said, sounding adorably grumpy. Bucky grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out, not wanting to give Steve a chance to change his mind. His twitchy mood from earlier had vanished completely now that he was focused on something.

“I’m on my way now, babe. Seriously, is there anything you need?”

“It was supposed to start tomorrow, not today.” Steve sounded almost angry at his body, which made something in Bucky ache. He’d had that feeling himself more than a few times since Afghanistan, but he thought that Steve had probably been living with some version of that hatred almost all his life. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t imagine how much this sucks for you right now.”

“Yeah, it does, but I didn’t finish what I was saying. Um, it was supposed to start tomorrow so I was going to buy...stuff this afternoon.”

Stuff. How unhelpfully vague. Still, Bucky wasn’t going to be even a tiny bit embarrassed about this. Hopefully if he treated it as no different from Steve asking him to buy them something to eat - which it wasn’t, really - then Steve would feel a bit less uncomfortable.

“Like pads or tampons kind of stuff, you mean? Or painkillers? Chocolate? Help me out here, Stevie.”

Steve let out a sort of strangled noise. “Oh my god, Bucky, why are you acting like this isn’t weird?”

“Because it isn’t? I have dated wo - ah, people with vaginas before, you know. And I’m not one of those guys that thinks touching a tampon is going to infect me with cooties or something. I grew up with three sisters, remember?”

“Thanks for the save, but saying you dated women would have been fine there. Unless any of them came out as trans afterwards?”

“Not that I know of. And yeah, I guess it would have. Just didn’t want you to think I was thinking of you in the same group as them.” Bucky looked at the street he’s walking along and saw the shop he had been aiming for. “Okay, I’m literally about to go into Walgreens now, so can you actually tell me what you need?”

“I don’t know how I got this lucky,” Steve said quietly.

“Don’t hold me up as some standard here, Steve. I’m not doing anything a decent person with basic respect for other people wouldn’t do. Just ‘cause you’ve met some assholes doesn’t mean there aren’t any regular folks left in the world.”

“I guess. But I’ve sure met a lot of the assholes, if you’re right. Um, can you see if they have non-applicator tampons?”

“Give me a second to work out what that is and then sure, no problem.”

“They don’t have the plastic tube thing. They’re usually cheaper as well.”

“Got them. Light, medium, heavy? Why the fuck are there so many different brands? Is one bit of cotton you stick up inside you really that different from another one?”

“Medium, I guess. And we can have a rant about how shitty and consumerist companies that market to women are some other time, yeah?”

“Sorry, back on track. Anything else?”

“The really thin pads. Pantyliners or whatever horrible name they’re called. And some ibuprofen or something would be good as well. I’ll pay you back when you get here.” Bucky didn’t think Steve sounded embarrassed anymore, which was a small victory.

“Alright, but I’m treating you to lunch. Speaking of, what food do you want?”

“Don’t care really. Something light. Thanks, Bucky.”

“Anytime, babe. I’m going to hang up and go pay, yeah? I’ll see you soon.”

“Sure, see you in a bit.”

Bucky had a smile he couldn’t wipe off his face as he went to go pay. If he got any odd looks from the cashier he didn’t notice them. Maybe the conversation he’d had with Steve wouldn’t have seemed like a huge step to most people, but to Bucky it felt like they had really turned a corner in their relationship. A few months ago he would never have guessed that being asked to buy tampons for someone could result in this level of contentment, but life was weird like that sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Steve is on his period, which is upsetting for him and causes him to say some potentially hurtful/mildly ableist things to Bucky. Discussion of products like tampons etc. 
> 
> Steve isn't meant as a representation of trans men/trans people who menstruate. Some trans people may not be bothered by their periods at all; everyone is different. In this case Steve is uncomfortable with it, as we will see more of in the next chapter. I did research the medical stuff in this, but I highly doubt my portrayal of it is completely accurate, so let me know if anything is too unrealistic and I can try to rethink.
> 
> Also, if you are thinking something along the lines of 'hah that's a cute trope of one partner being all grammatically correct in texts while the other is useless at even getting the letters in order but that doesn't really work in 2016 when everyone has a smartphone' - actually, me and almost all my family have Genuine Bricks™ for phones, and mine in particular can't cope with predictive text to save its sweet little 2008 life. Shout-out to anyone else who still has to press 4 times for the letter s. Bucky mainly doesn't want a smartphone because a) costs can add up with them and he doesn't use it much and b) as he points out to Steve, smartphones are a lot less hardy, and although he doesn't use his prosthesis for much other than to stop people staring at him, accidentally hitting an old Nokia with his left arm won't leave a scratch, whereas I'd bet we've all seen an iphone with a cracked screen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we get Steve's point of view! Chapter warnings in end notes. Steve and Bucky also finally have the conversation Steve has been building up to for a long time.

* * *

Steve put his phone down, feeling an odd mix of thankful that he had such an amazing boyfriend, but still generally pissed off. At work, his uterus, the world, he really didn’t know. Or care, if he was being honest.

He just wanted someone to knock him unconscious and wake him up again in a few days, but he guessed that Bucky wouldn’t be too pleased at that idea.

He was actually hungry, at least when he focused on something other than the dull ache in his lower stomach and back, and he currently had what felt like half a roll of toilet paper stuffed down his boxers. So it was a good thing Bucky had got in touch. Still, he wondered if he could persuade him to just drop off the food and supplies and let Steve curl up in misery on his own. He really wouldn’t be good company right now.

As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, though, he realised that wasn’t really what he wanted. He wanted to lie on the couch and watch TV and introduce Bucky to some more good music, and maybe get a back rub or something. It seemed selfish to be thinking that way, especially when he was technically still supposed to be working today, but he knew that pretty much everyone in his life - including his boss - would be pushing him towards taking a lazy day off with his boyfriend.

So that was exactly what he was going to do.

He must have drifted off for a few minutes, because it didn’t feel like much time had passed before he heard a light knock on the door.

He opened it to find Bucky leaning on the door frame, holding two plastic bags in his hand and smiling like Steve was the best thing he’d seen all week.

Steve looked down at himself. Sweatpants and a t-shirt his aunt had sent over to him from Ireland last Christmas. His extended family had never really adjusted to him being - well, _him_ \- and he hadn’t seen any of them since his ma’s funeral. But they occasionally exchanged cards and impersonal gifts, like this shirt. Which was a lurid shade of green and said ‘We Don’t Keep Calm, We’re Irish’ in massive block letters, and had definitely been found in the women’s clothing section of a store. Its only redeeming feature was the material, which was incredibly soft and had resulted in it being Steve’s favourite pyjama top.

He hadn’t showered yet, mostly because he was being a coward and didn’t want to find out if he was imagining the slight bloating of his stomach and the swelling feeling he had in his chest or if he really did look different. All in all, he doubted he was the most attractive person Bucky had seen between the pharmacy and Steve’s building, let alone in the past few days.

“I’m feeling kind of like a vampire here, Steve,” Bucky said.

Steve stared in horror for a moment before remembering he still hadn’t moved aside so that Bucky could come in.

“Sorry! Come in, of course.”

Bucky looked amused. “What was with that expression just now? You looked like I was about to pull out an axe or something. Was it the bad vampire joke?”

Steve could tell he was going bright red. “Um. I just - my mind went somewhere else with it for a second.”

Bucky looked at him blankly, and Steve could see the exact moment it clicked for him.

“Oh my god! Steve, fuck me. I am never letting you live that down.” Bucky sounded like he was about to burst out laughing, and Steve stood there and tried wiggling his toes - he had a vague memory of someone telling him it made you stop blushing, and his face felt like it was on fire.

Bucky’s expression softened and he bent down to give Steve a kiss on the cheek. “Aw, sorry babe. I’m just messing with you. I love that your mind even went there, seriously.”

Steve relaxed and took the bag without the food in from Bucky. “I hate you,” he said, not meaning it for a second.

“I’ve done that before, you know,” Bucky said casually.

What, hated someone? That made no - _oh,_ wow, that was not what he’d meant. Steve resigned himself to the fact that he was never going to stop blushing.

“Seriously? Isn’t it, you know, um.” Messy? Gross?

Bucky grinned at him. “I actually liked it. Would never have thought of it, but I was hooking up with this real shy girl - wait, I feel like this is shit boyfriend behaviour. Talking about my exes?”

“I don’t mind. I’m kind of curious now.” Steve was mildly surprised to find that he really didn’t mind. He didn’t think he had any voyeuristic tendencies; he barely even watched porn. But for some reason he wanted to know more whenever he thought about Bucky being with so many people before Steve. It wasn’t jealousy, and it didn’t exactly turn him on, but it was maybe somewhere in-between the two sensations.

Bucky looked at him, and then went over to the kitchen area to get out plates for their food. “Alright, but tell me to quit it whenever.” He opened up the food containers and Steve could smell Thai from their favourite takeaway, which reminded him again how hungry he was.

“So, we’d made out a bit at some crappy party,” Bucky continued. “And we went upstairs to a spare room, usual routine. Only soon as she went to take her panties off she started like, almost crying, and I had no clue what was going on.” He paused to rip open a sauce sachet with his teeth, and glanced over at Steve, probably to check that he was still okay with hearing about this. Steve nodded, hoping that Bucky couldn’t tell that his face was red now for a reason other than embarrassment.

“She was talking super fast about how it was early and she was really sorry and she could still blow me and I finally figured out what was going on. And then I felt kinda bad for her. Like, she seemed pretty quiet, and I figure it probably wasn’t easy for her to come and talk to me - um, I had a bit of a reputation back then?” He looked at Steve to see if this was coming as a surprise. Hopefully Steve’s face conveyed exactly how much that was not a shock to him, because Bucky quirked the corner of his mouth up and carried on.

“I said the usual, you know, that we didn’t have to do anything and we could give it another go in a week if she wanted. And then - oh man, I will never forget this, it was amazing. She had a rep for being, y’know, a bit of a prude - sorry, I hate that word, but it was the nicest one out of the shit people used to call her. And she just looked up at me and said ‘aw, but I’ve been really turned on all day’ in this hilarious way, like she was so _annoyed_ she wasn’t going to get to fuck me, and I just - well, I suggested that maybe we could still have a bit of fun. You probably don’t want details.”

Steve absolutely did want details. He was sure that this was the opposite of normal, liking stories of how his boyfriend had slept with a lot of other people, but to hell with normal; not that there was any way he was going to say what he was thinking out loud. He could figure it out on his own time. They hadn’t even come close to having sex themselves yet, and Steve really didn’t want to make things weird before that had even happened.

Bucky had finished setting out the food, and Steve suddenly remembered the bag he was holding.

“Um, just going to the bathroom. I’ll - be right back.”

Bucky nodded as if he didn’t know exactly what Steve was about to do, and started getting cutlery out of the drawer. Steve swallowed down the happy feeling he got whenever he saw how at home Bucky looked in his apartment, and made his way quickly to the bathroom. 

He inserted the tampon as quickly as he could without hurting himself, thankful that Bucky had found the right kind. He’d never managed to get the hang of applicator ones; he’d either pinch something with the little cardboard spikes, or get it up there and find he couldn’t push the tube in properly. He knew that some people might have been surprised he didn’t prefer pads, but once he had a tampon in he could mostly forget about it, whereas the feeling of wearing half a diaper was very difficult to ignore. Cups made the environmental activist in him happy, but the thought of having something that size inside - nope, no way.

He washed his hands thoroughly and then washed them again. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror; there weren’t many days when he really hated his appearance anymore and he didn’t want to find out if this was one of them.

He really couldn’t wait until this was over, but he couldn’t deny that he was already starting to feel a bit better. He made his way back into the living room to see that Bucky had sat down and was ready to start eating.

They picked through the food in silence for a while, but Steve could tell that Bucky had something on his mind, so he raised his eyebrows and hoped that would get the message across.

Bucky put down his fork and met Steve’s eyes. “Okay, yeah, I gotta ask. You really didn’t mind me talking about that?”

Steve considered it for a moment, but if he was being honest he already knew the answer. “No, it was fine. I mean, I don’t need a play-by-play of everyone you’ve ever been with or anything. But you don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen.”

Bucky snorted. “Good, ‘cause I think I’d lose my voice before I got through them all. Thanks, though. Didn’t know if you’d be jealous or something.”

Steve took a mouthful of food to give himself time to think. “Not jealous, exactly. I can be a bit possessive sometimes. I wouldn’t really like it if you were flirting with someone now. But you don’t want to - wait, actually.” He couldn’t believe this hadn’t occurred to him until now, though it wasn’t like he had much experience with relationships. “We’ve never had this conversation. _Do_ you want to see other people?”

Bucky’s eyes were wide and he looked like he’d been put on the spot, which Steve felt bad about. But at the same time, now that the thought had crossed his mind, he did really want to know. And it wasn’t like questions about kids and marriage or anything like that; if anything they should probably have had the discussion about whether or not they wanted to be exclusive before now.

“No, no I don’t,” Bucky said, sounding certain. “I’m not against polyamory or anything, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want that for me.” He looked nervous suddenly. “You?”

“Same here. Relationships can be hard work for me as it is, to be honest. I’m happy with just one person. You, I mean. Obviously.” He took an extra large bite of his food to stop himself from talking any more.

Bucky smiled at him. “Least we’re on the same page. Oh, I brought dessert as well, if you’re up for that?”

Dessert turned out to be two cartons of ice-cream, eaten slowly while curled up on Steve’s couch watching daytime TV. Steve couldn’t take in how much better his day had gone than he had been expecting, all because Bucky was here.

They finished the ice cream, swapping occasionally to try both flavours, but neither of them made any move to get up. They settled on some drama that Steve had only vaguely heard of but that had good reviews, but he was too comfortable to bother paying much attention to the screen. It was nice just lying there, not feeling the need to fill the quiet with anything much, just enjoying the knowledge that he was with someone who understood and accepted him for who he was, not some idealised or stereotyped version of him.

The next program to come on was a war documentary, and their hands brushed as they both reached for the remote at the same time to change the channel.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, tugging his blanket up so it was tucked around his legs again.

“Of course,” Steve said. “I don’t like watching them either.”

He tensed as soon as he’d said it, and he knew there was no way Bucky wouldn’t have noticed.

“Yeah? Pacifist thing, or you don’t like the violence?”

“It’s complicated,” Steve tried, but he had already decided that since he’d put his foot in his mouth he might as well finish the conversation. “I actually really wanted to join up. I mean, I did join. Sort of.”

Bucky pulled away from him and turned so they could see each other’s faces. Bucky looked honestly shocked, and Steve winced. He’d known that the longer he waited the harder - and more awkward - this conversation would be, but that had only made him feel more pressured to find the right moment. This probably wasn’t it, but it was definitely too late to worry about that now.

“Wait, _what?_ How has this never come up?”

“It’s - I don’t really talk about it to people, and you’re a vet so it makes it a bit weird, I guess. Sorry, I should have told you before.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything. You said I didn’t have to tell you if I had an STI, which was very sweet of you. It just threw me when you said that; I really wouldn’t have pegged you for the kind of guy that joins the army. My bad.”

“It’s alright. You did tell me, and you told me about going down on someone on their period, which I still haven’t really processed by the way. I should tell you this.”

Bucky laughed, but he still looked a bit worried. “I liked it! It was a bit messy and it tasted strange at first, but she was _very_ responsive.” 

Steve made a choking sound. “You can’t just say things like that! I have really confusing images in my head right now.”

Bucky raised one eyebrow in a way that Steve would bet had been responsible for a large proportion of his hook-ups. “As much as I want to talk about the _confusing_ feelings I’m giving you, I just have to say one thing first. You know you don’t owe me details of your life just ‘cause I shared some of mine, yeah? It’s not a - I don’t know, a competition, or an exchange. If you want to tell me anything, cool. If not, don’t. Okay?”

Steve didn’t know how he wanted to respond. But then he thought about it for a moment and realised that actually, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to Bucky. 

“Thank you for saying that. But I honestly do want to tell you this. Just, um. Can you maybe not say anything till I’m done?”

Bucky muted the TV and curled back against Steve’s side, head on his shoulder so that they weren’t looking at each other anymore. “Take as long as you want, babe.”

Steve sighed, taking a moment to process all the trains of thought that were running around in his head. “Okay. So, you should know I used to idealise soldiers a lot as a kid. My dad was army, and so was my grandad. My dad died in the Gulf War, before I was born. There weren’t many casualties, he was just unlucky. And my ma didn’t talk about him that much, so to feel close to him I used to read a lot of old children’s books about the brave soldiers who gave their lives for their country and all that.”

He looked at the bit of Bucky’s face that he could see, and couldn’t make out any signs that he was uncomfortable, so Steve carried on. “That changed when I was in high school, especially after 9/11. I didn’t - sorry, this is a shitty thing to say to a vet, I know - I didn’t think that we were getting involved in the Middle East for the right reasons. I was very self-righteous about my politics as a teenager. Almost got arrested as a protest once.”

Bucky let out a quiet laugh at that, but still didn’t say anything. 

“But even with all that there was still this little voice in my head that thought of the army as the ideal way to prove my masculinity. It sounds messed up, I know. I wasn’t always confident about being trans, even though I tried to make it seem like I was. And high school is it’s own special kind of hell, as I’m sure you know.”

Steve thought for a second, picturing the image he had in his head of how Bucky might have looked in high school. “Well, maybe not. You were probably more popular than I was at least. Anyway, for the last two years of school, after I’d had my top surgery, I worked out pretty obsessively. And then when I’d graduated, I went straight to the nearest recruitment office. My ma wasn’t happy, but I felt like I needed to do it. To live up to my dad, or to prove to everyone I was a man - I know that’s bullshit, by the way. And I did want to help people, as well, and I hoped I could find a way to do that through the army.”

He cleared his throat, trying not to think about how fucked up his head had been as a teenager. He hadn’t even got to the worst part of the story yet, and he didn’t want to postpone this conversation any more than he already had done.

“I’m still not sure why, but they accepted me. The second centre did, anyway, I failed my medical at the first place. And then I was in basic training, and it was - well, it was really fucking scary. I know that must sound pathetic to you, you’ve fought in an actual warzone, but they were pushing us to our limits and trying to make us really aggressive and I hated it. And it was really stressful trying to hide that I was trans from them. All the guys showered together, you know what it was like. Everyone just assumed that I had a tiny dick, I think. Which, I mean, they weren’t exactly wrong.”

He paused, and decided that he’d changed his mind about not wanting to hear Bucky’s thoughts yet.

“Bucky? You okay? I kind of want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah, course,” Bucky said slowly. “I’m not sure what to say, to be honest. I didn’t go through the same kind of conflict about joining, I was just broke and thought I’d do alright there. Not very noble, but it made sense for me at the time. And you’re not wrong about a lot of the reasons we were over there being pretty dodgy. You won’t offend me or anything, don’t worry about that.”

“Okay. I’m still sorry we didn’t talk about this before now, though. It’s just - my two best friends are vets, and so are you. I guess I feel kind of bad talking about this when you’ve all been through so much more than me.”

Bucky made a disagreeing kind of sound. “Don’t say that. I mean, I get where you’re coming from. I barely saw any real combat, so I feel like shit sometimes when people thank me for my service. Literally the only thing I did was get my arm blown off. But I can hear my old therapist babbling on about not comparing trauma and how everyone’s experiences are valid and shit like that. Which is probably right.”

“I know it is, rationally. I just have a few hangups about it,” Steve said, thinking about the lecture Sam and Riley would give him if they knew even a tenth of the thoughts he’d had about this kind of thing. “And you lost a _limb,_ Buck. And even if you hadn’t you’d be every bit as worthy as any soldier to call yourself a veteran.”

“I guess. Like you said, I know you’re right. I just sometimes have a hard time convincing my brain of that.”

“I know the feeling,” Steve said quietly.

“So, why did you leave? I have to say, I really can’t picture you as the type to be okay with blindly following orders.”

Steve swallowed. “I didn’t leave. They kicked me out.”

Bucky’s head jerked up for a second, but then he moved it back down to Steve’s shoulder. “Fuck, no way. Wait, please tell me it wasn’t because you’re trans?”

Steve nodded, then remembered that Bucky couldn’t see him properly. “Yeah. We - we were in the shower, and I had a towel round my waist and one guy ripped it off me. Everyone saw. I don’t know who reported it.” He cleared his throat, determined not to start crying about this again. He’d shed too many tears over that part of his life already.

 _“Fuck_ them,” Bucky said, sounding angrier than Steve had ever heard him. “God, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry you had to hide in the first place, fuck, and then those bastards - Jesus, I’m so pissed off right now I can’t even tell you.”

“It, yeah. It really messed me up. Then my ma died and I didn’t think about much else, but it was still another thing that made me feel like a failure.”

“Steve, baby, you’re not even remotely a failure. How can you even say that? It wasn’t your fault, any of that. I can’t believe they reported you. I fucking hope I never met any of them.”

“Officially, my instructors told me it was because they were worried my asthma would come back. Even though that was in my medical records already and I hadn’t had an attack since I was eight. And it was the day after the shower thing, so yeah. It was pretty clear I wasn’t welcome.”

“I’m so sorry. No wonder you’re not a big fan of army talk.”

“It’s okay. I hear a lot of it, with my friends. I guess I just feel a bit left out sometimes. Or, not that exactly. I just feel bad that I couldn’t do more.” That was an understatement, but Bucky didn’t need to know the full extent of Steve’s occasional bouts of self-loathing.

“They were the problem, not you. You couldn’t have done anything.” 

Bucky sounded so convinced that what he was saying was the absolute truth. Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t think he could say the last part out loud.

“Steve?” Bucky sounded worried.

“I - I could have gone back. They would have let me join again, the year after.”

“Why couldn’t they just let you stay then?” Bucky was clearly confused - understandably - but Steve felt like there was something stuck in his throat, blocking the words he knew he had to speak next.

He trusted Bucky. He felt as though they’d known each other for years rather than weeks. He could do this.

“Steve Rogers couldn’t have rejoined. But - if I'd applied under my birth name, I probably could have.”

He managed to say it all in one breath, knowing that if he hesitated he wouldn’t say it at all.

“Oh, _Steve.”_ Bucky sounded even more upset than Steve had predicted he would. “No, you can’t think - baby, it would never, ever have been worth that. Nothing would be.”

“I know,” Steve cut him off. “It would have killed me. I know. I just hate how it all happened.” He sighed, and carried on: “Sorry to get so down.”

“Hey, I’m glad you felt like you could share that with me. Don’t apologise.”

"They changed the rules this year," Steve said, hoping he didn't sound too bitter. "Trans people are going to be allowed to serve without having to stay in the closet."

"But - you don't want to go back, right?"

"No," Steve said quickly. He hadn't even needed to think about it for a second. "No, I wasn't joining for the right reasons. And I love where I am now. I wouldn't go back, it just...yeah."

"It sucks that you had the choice taken away from you," Bucky said, reaching out and taking Steve's left hand. "I mean, I'm glad they're finally seeing sense, but I'm still really pissed off that happened to you."

“Me too. I wouldn't change where I am, though. I'm more upset about all the - everyone else who made it and had to hide for their entire careers."

"Yeah, mixed feelings, right? Like when same-sex marriage was legalised. I was so happy for a day and then I started thinking about how sad it was that I was celebrating getting something that's like, a basic civil right to so many people."

"At least things are changing now. Kids today are going to grow up in a completely different world when it comes to stuff like this."

"Yeah, that's true." Bucky sighed. "We should look on the bright side, I guess."

"I’m really happy you came over,” Steve admitted, staring at their interlinked hands. It was true; even with the emotional conversation they’d had, today had still been so much better than he’d thought it would.

“Me too,” Bucky said. “Now, want to watch a movie? We still have a few Studio Ghibli ones to go.”

Steve smiled a little at how easily Bucky had been able to tell that a change of subject to something lighter was needed right then. He had been worried about getting into a long-term relationship for reasons that he wasn’t sure would make sense to anyone else. He had been scared at the thought of someone being able to read his emotions, to see things in Steve that he wasn’t ready to share yet. But now he was living it, he found that rather than making him self-conscious and overly aware of himself, it only made him relax more around Bucky.

“Sounds perfect.” Steve kissed the side of Bucky’s head and moved the blanket off himself, stretching out his back since he’d been curled up in the same position for a while now.

Except he’d somehow managed to forget the reason Bucky had come over in the first place, and as soon as he had started to move he immediately doubled back over, groaning in pain.

“Steve! What’s wrong?”

“Cramps,” Steve said between clenched teeth. “Can you get me the painkillers you bought?”

Bucky jumped up and fetched them, holding the pack in his teeth as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Steve watched him from the sofa, feeling drained and exhausted, but also so grateful that he wasn’t doing this alone.

It wasn’t a feeling Steve was used to. Even when he’d had his mother, he’d been very defensive about his capabilities, often going out of the way to prove how independent he could be. And then when she was gone, he had been even more determined to make it on his own. He was so glad that he’d met Sam; he thought he would have ended up very lonely if it wasn’t for their friendship.

And now he had Bucky. Someone to share his life with, maybe not in a permanent sense - though Steve couldn’t lie to himself, he was already hoping for that possibility - but at least for now.

He made a mental note to never take this relationship for granted. He’d been on his own for years and he was tired of it; he was going to hold on to Bucky for as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: This follows directly on from Chapter 6, so Steve is on his period and not happy about it. Bucky talks about giving oral sex to someone on their period. Later, Steve expresses mild dysphoria and the desire to just be unconscious for the next few days. Steve and Bucky have another emotional conversation in which Steve reveals that he joined the army and was asked to leave because he was outed as trans. Steve talks about some messed-up ideas he used to have about proving his masculinity by being a soldier, but he recognises now that he was wrong to think that way.
> 
> Hehe I'm so sorry about the vampire jokes. If you didn't get that part of the conversation, when Bucky says he feels like a vampire he means because Steve hasn't invited him through the door yet and there is a trope in vampire lore of them needing to be invited before they can cross a threshold. Steve, bless him, because he isn't thinking about much else except the fact that he's bleeding from somewhere he'd rather not be, immediately thinks about vampires drinking blood and...well...you can fill in the blanks from there.
> 
> Edited to add the info I found out when last-minute researching chapter 8 that as of 30th June 2016 trans people will be able to serve openly in the US Military!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in quite a while, we meet people who are not Steve or Bucky! Warnings in end notes.
> 
> I just got back from work to see that there are now over 500 hits on this fic!! I am a little bit in shock, and very happy/grateful. Thank you all for reading! <3

* * *

Steve and Bucky were sat in their favourite coffee shop, and Bucky didn’t want to move for at least an hour. It was rare that he got a Saturday night off, and he was determined to enjoy every second of it. The faint buzz of conversation rose up around them, but there were no people sitting at the closest tables. It was raining enough outside that the streetview from the window was obscured, but while in the past that might have made him nervous, now he just thought the raindrops trickling down the glass looked attractive. He was happy to be inhaling the smell of coffee and hot chocolate, curled up next to Steve - who was scribbling away at something on his tablet - and letting his thoughts drift off wherever they wanted to.

Currently he was lost in a fantasy where some rich weirdo had spotted him and Steve being adorable together and had offered them an all expenses paid holiday to - hmm. Ireland, for Steve? No, dream-Bucky just wanted to relax and not focus on anything important, and Ireland would bring up a lot of memories and potentially painful family history for Steve. Somewhere warm would be nicer as well. Italy, maybe. A little beach town on the west coast, with those colourful houses and magically warm sea. A train ride away from Venice so that they could go on a gondola ride, even though he was certain that Steve would spend half the time making fun of Bucky for such a cheesy romantic gesture and the rest of time being distracted and wanting to sketch every building in sight.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Steve gently poking his ribs.

“Buck? You with me?”

“Mmm. What’s up?” His voice came out slow and lethargic; maybe he had actually drifted off to sleep for a moment there.

“Ah, Sam just messaged me. He and Riley were supposed to be having a dinner party thing with some of Riley’s family, but her mom isn’t feeling well so they postponed it.” Steve sounded hesitant, and Bucky wasn’t feeling awake enough yet to try and figure out why.

“Okay, so?” What was Steve getting at here?

“Well, they had a lot of the food ready to go. And, um, they’ve been wanting to meet you for a while. So Sam was wondering…”

“You want us to go?” Was he ready for this? He was always going to be nervous about meeting Steve’s friends, that was a given. But it had to happen sometime, and from Steve’s stories he was pretty sure he’d like Sam and Riley.

“Well, only if you do.” Steve clearly wasn’t going to make any more of a commitment than that, which was what made up Bucky’s mind.

“I want to meet them. And hey, free food!”

Steve laughed. “And they say people with a one-track mind usually think about sex. Clearly you have other priorities.”

“I never said food was _better_ than sex, Stevie, don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Course not, Buck. You’d much rather something else was in there, am I right?” 

_Fuck,_ Steve was going to kill him one of these days. The way he delivered innuendo, with that perfect look of innocence in his eyes, and his deadpan voice making you wonder if he’d actually meant to say something that dirty. Until you looked closer at his expression and saw that hint of mischief there and you knew that yes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Bucky stood up with a groan, bending backwards on the pretence of stretching out his spine. Two could play at that game.

Sure enough, Steve’s eyes opened a little wider and his gaze fell straight on the strip of skin below Bucky’s t-shirt that had been revealed.

“Bucky! We don’t have time to play - sex chicken, or whatever. We should go put something nicer on and get to Sam’s.”

Bucky had been trying to think of the perfect pick-up-line to make Steve laugh, but he completely lost his train of thought when Steve said that. _“Sex chicken, Steve?_ I try and flirt with my gorgeous boyfriend, even though he woke me up from a very nice dream about a boat ride in Italy, and I get accused of playing sex chicken?”

Steve was blushing, which Bucky knew was probably because of the _gorgeous boyfriend_ comment. He wished Steve could somehow see himself through Bucky’s eyes. Maybe then he’d have more of an idea of just how attractive he was.

“Alright, enough sweet talk,” Steve said. “I can tell Sam we’ll be there in two hours? Enough time for us both to go clean up and meet back here. Sam’s place is only a block away.”

“Sure, that works.” Bucky bent down slightly to kiss Steve, but pulled away after the first brush of their lips. He walked out of the coffee shop, making sure to sway his hips as he waved back at Steve, who he could hear trying not to laugh behind him.

Half a minute after he’d left, he got a text from Steve. All it said was:

**Chicken.**

Bucky let out a loud laugh, ignoring the looks the people around gave him, and broke into a jog. He had some excess energy he wanted to burn off before he met Steve’s friends. He didn’t want to examine too closely why it was so important that he make a good impression on them. Everything about this, new as it still was, already felt like it had the potential to change his life. He really didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up.

* * *

Just under two hours later, they were standing in front of an apartment building that looked a lot nicer than either Bucky’s or Steve’s.

“They both have good jobs, and sharing the place cuts down costs as well,” Steve explained. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Bucky hoped he didn’t look too anxious, though from the look Steve was giving him he didn’t think he was quite pulling off the calm vibe he was going for.

Steve squeezed his hand. “It’ll be fine. They’re the nicest people I can imagine. And they’ve been wanting to meet you for ages.”

That didn’t actually help with the nerves. Which Steve seemed to realise, because he quickly added: “But no pressure! Seriously, if you want to leave just let me know, it’s no problem at all.”

“Nah, I’m good.” As soon as he said it Bucky realised it was the truth. “Anyway, I haven’t got nearly enough embarrassing stories on you. Figure this evening might give me a head start.”

* * *

Sam and Riley were every bit as nice as Steve had said they were. Bucky had already known that Sam was a counsellor, and if he was being honest that had actually made him more nervous to meet the guy rather than less. He hadn’t got on all that well with his own therapists after he got back stateside; he had no desire to be analysed in his free time as well.

But Sam didn’t bring his work home with him, except for the aura of calmness that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He wasn’t quite like any vet Bucky had ever met; even the ones who had been home a long time often seemed to have a reserve of anger stored up inside them. Sam had the air of someone who had been through a hell of a lot but who had somehow managed to process it all like a healthy human being, and yet Bucky didn’t feel at all resentful of that. So basically, Sam was an alien trying his best to blend into American society, was the conclusion Bucky came to.

And Riley was just as bad - or, well, good. She was the kind of person you’d look twice at if you passed her on the street; she was taller than Sam and had streaks of pale lilac twisted into her braids, with lipstick of the exact same shade. She was wearing a gorgeous dress that looked like it had been handmade from scraps of at least five other pieces of clothing, and Bucky wondered if there was any way he could introduce her to Clint without Natasha wanting to monopolise the meeting. So, yeah, _striking_ was the best way to describe Riley’s appearance, but then when she started talking in her soft Southern accent you forgot her unusual looks, and just focused on wondering how exactly someone could have a voice with the same qualities as a lazy summer afternoon.

Steve seemed to gravitate more towards Sam than Riley, though they kept the conversation between the four of them rather than breaking off into groups of two. Bucky found himself feeling at ease long before the end of the meal - which was delicious: some kind of mushroom risotto that he would never have tried on his own but which he ended up having third helpings of - and he regretted being so hesitant when it came to meeting Steve’s friends.

Bucky was surprised by how long it took them - three ex-soldiers and a guy who had been desperate to join their ranks - to start up a conversation about the army. He didn’t mind talking about it, but he had picked up on the fact that Sam and Riley, who were a few years older than him and Steve, had both served for a long time and had a hell of a lot more experience than Bucky did.

When Riley started talking about some heroic move Sam had pulled that had saved the lives of three people, Bucky felt his heart rate starting to pick up a bit, and decided to find a quiet space to get a few long breaths in before he rejoined the conversation. He looked around and spotted the French doors leading to a balcony - it was absurd that this apartment was technically in the same area code as Bucky’s - and couldn’t resist the lure of some fresh air.

He made his way outside and sat down in one of the deck chairs, leaning forward and gazing out at the city. He wasn’t paying much attention, but even lost in thought he could appreciate how beautiful a New York evening could be. Especially when viewed from high up.

It didn’t take long for him to feel calm again, but he decided to stay outside for a few more minutes. Steve wouldn’t mind, and hopefully Sam and Riley would understand as well.

“You okay there?” 

He jumped slightly, and looked up to see Riley standing next to him, tilting her head in concern.

“Ah, sorry. I’m fine. Just needed a bit of fresh air.” He actually was feeling fine now, and thought he was probably alright to rejoin the others, but then Riley sat down next to him before he could get up.

“Mind if I join?” She didn’t look she’d be bothered if Bucky said that he did mind, which was probably the reason he automatically shook his head.

Still, there was something that had been bugging him about Riley all night, and he didn’t know if he’d get another chance to ask.

“Tell me to fuck off if you want,” he started. “But I get the feeling that things between you and Steve are, um, a little tense, maybe? Not that it’s any of my business. I just. Wondered.” He hunched his shoulders over, already regretting asking.

“You’re not wrong,” Riley said. “I like Steve. And he likes me, I think. But I bring up a lot of emotions in him that he doesn’t want to face. Even though our situations are completely different.” She looked frustrated, but carried on: “He’s a good guy. I wish he wasn’t so hard on himself.”

“Oh, join the club,” Bucky said, smiling a little. “Gotta say, though, you just made me even more curious. Don’t tell me anything Steve wouldn’t want me to know, obviously, but when you say your situations are different? Guess I’m wondering what that means.”

“Eh, it’s hardly a secret. And it’s more about me than Steve, so I don’t mind telling you.” She didn’t say anything though, and Bucky resisted the urge to ask again. It probably wasn’t healthy, the way he wanted to know every detail of Steve’s past. 

She was silent for about a minute, so it made Bucky jump when she started speaking again. “Steve’s known he was male his whole life, near enough. And he’s never been shy about letting people know, at least not from the stories I hear. So when he realised the only way he was going to have an Army career was if he pretended to be female, that just - it would have gone against his entire identity. His sense of self. It would have been a terrible idea, and I don’t know if he would have survived it. Literally.”

Bucky was staring hard at the ground, trying to look like he wasn’t blinking back a few tears. What Riley was saying was nothing Steve hadn’t implied, but hearing it from someone else’s point of view somehow made the unfairness of it all even more apparent. Probably because Steve always downplayed anything bad about his life, the little martyr fucker.

“With me, it was very different,” Riley continued. “I just thought I was a sort of...feminine man, I guess, until I heard about non-binary trans people. Which actually wasn’t until I was already in the service. So I was used to army life, and being treated only as a guy, way before I actually identified as genderqueer. I’m not saying it didn’t suck. Especially on the days when I was feeling closer to the female end of my spectrum. But you can’t really compare it to what Steve would have had to do.” 

Bucky was feeling kind of blindsided. It wasn’t like he’d assumed that you could tell when people were trans; he didn’t actually think he’d have guessed Steve was if it wasn’t for the shit-ton of queer badges on his jacket and the fact that they’d met in an argument about bathroom access. But still, he was rapidly revising his estimate of how many trans people he actually knew; clearly he could have met plenty of them without ever realising it.

“Wow. Okay, um, so I should know. I’ve been using she and her for you in my head, which probably I shouldn’t have assumed. I can change that, though!”

Riley laughed. “I’m fine with she and her, actually. Or they and them, especially if you see me in a really masculine outfit. Though that’s pretty rare, nowadays. I’m making up for all those years of boring uniforms, you know? Thanks for asking, though.”

“Thanks for trusting me. I still have a hell of a lot to learn about all this stuff. What you said about Steve, that makes a lot of sense.” He hesitated, not knowing if he should finish what he wanted to say, but he figured Riley didn’t seem like the sort of person to let him get away with saying anything out of line. So he continued: “Doesn’t make it right, though, what you had to deal with. Even if it took you longer to figure out - and Steve is one of those annoying people who knows exactly what he wants from life, so, yeah - you shouldn’t have had to, y’know, ignore a part of yourself for people to take you seriously. That’s still fucked up.”

“I know it is. The forces have a really long way to go when it comes to anything like that, although at least it wouldn't be against the rules now if I went back in."

"Oh, yeah, Steve told me about the ban being lifted."

"Yeah. It's great, obviously," Riley said, though she didn't sound entirely happy. "But the way the media reported it was really focused on trans people who are either male or female, as usual, so I don't even know how it would affect me if I wanted to go back in."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know. Probably not. It was both the best and worst time of my life, in a lot of ways. I think I'm happy being more settled now. And Sam wouldn't want to."

"He seems like a great guy," Bucky said. It was true; he'd had a good impression of Sam already from Steve's stories, and meeting him in person had only confirmed that.

Riley smiled. "He really is. I got lucky there. I told Sam pretty much as soon as I started figuring my gender out, and that helped a lot. He was pretty amazing, right from the start. I wouldn’t change anything about how it happened, even though that might sound strange to you.”

Bucky shrugged. “Nah. I’ve been through some shit myself. Nothing like that but yeah, I get you. Don’t know where I’d be if it hadn’t happened, and I don’t hate where I am now so I wouldn’t want to erase any of it. Even the fucked up parts.”

Riley nodded in agreement, but didn’t reply. She looked lost in her own thoughts, and Bucky was more than happy to sit out here in silence for a bit. Like Sam, Riley seemed like one of those people who made everyone feel calmer just by walking into a room, and Bucky could use a bit more calm in his life.

He sensed someone approaching his back, and turned round to see Steve walking over to the balcony with a badly-concealed look of concern. He stood up without being prompted, giving Riley a quick smile to let her know that he was okay to head back in again.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said. “You alright? You can stay out here if you want, or we can make it an early night?”

Bucky took hold of Steve’s left hand and spun him back around so they were walking back into the house. “All good, Stevie. Just needed some fresh air, I’m still up for a party.”

“Not sure if this counts as a party,” Steve laughed. “Hey, any of your friends might want to come over? They’d be more than welcome.”

“Well, there’s Natasha and Clint. Pretty sure they’re busy tonight, but yeah, I want you to meet them sometime if you’re up for it.”

Steve looked predictably outraged at the suggestion that he might not be up for anything. “Course I am! I’d love to meet your friends, Buck. Just try and stop me.”

“I’ll see what I can fix up, then. Fair warning though, they can be a bit much at first. And I don’t usually introduce them to people I date, so they’ll either be on their best behaviour or their worst.”

“I don’t care. I want to know more about you. Let me know when and I’ll make sure I’m free.”

Bucky pulled Steve closer, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and trying to get his smile under control. Steve’s words about wanting to know more about him echoed exactly what Bucky had been thinking about earlier. He really did want to share everything with Steve, and he hoped the feeling was mutual. It was kind of scaring him to be feeling this serious about someone he’d only known for a couple of months, but he shoved the little voice that was telling him nothing this good can last to the back of his mind. He would hold onto this for as long as he could, and if it ended then it sure as hell wouldn’t be by his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Discussion of different perspectives on being trans while in the forces, including the often negative attitude towards trans people. Riley, who is non-binary and realised this in their twenties, expresses the opinion that life in the forces was easier for them than it would have been for Steve as a trans man (this isn't necessarily true, everyone is different, it's just a character's opinion).
> 
> On a positive note, when researching this chapter I discovered that transgender people can serve openly in the US military as of June 30th 2016! [(Source.)](http://www.mcclatchydc.com/news/nation-world/national/article86902072.html) It's not actually relevant to the fic since Riley's service has been over for a while, but I was happy to find that out! In fact, I may have to edit the chapter where Steve reveals why he was kicked out of basic to add in the fact that he could now theoretically join again (he won't, but it's good the possibility is there).
> 
> [Edited this chapter to add in Riley talking about the ban being lifted.]
> 
> Riley's picture in CA:tWS is of a white guy. And also he is dead. But, eh, poetic licence. We won't see much more of Sam and Riley in this fic, or of Clint and Natasha after their chapter, but I have some short sequels planned that will give more of an idea of their personalities in this universe/their perspective on Steve and Bucky's relationship. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, and Riley in particular!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Natasha and Clint! 'Mention of sex work' tag is new for this chapter. Warnings at end.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. This is still unbetaed and there have been a few mistakes I caught last minute which means there's probably a few I missed, sorry!

* * *

Steve was trying to look as confident as possible. Which he was usually really good at, after years of standing up to people being assholes either to him or to someone else who didn’t deserve it. But right now he was pretty sure anyone who had ever met him would have been able to tell at a glance just how nervous he was. At least he was a stranger to Bucky’s friends. Maybe they’d just think this was normal for him. Or maybe Natasha and Clint were terrible at reading people.

“Aww, James. He looks like a scared little kitten.” Steve cleared his throat and tried to make himself as tall as he could when he saw the woman who had spoken. She was - well, intimidating hardly covered it. He would have been an inch or two shorter than her even if she wasn’t wearing stilettos; her bright red hair didn’t have a strand out of place, and her makeup and clothes were understated but looked like they came from a store that wouldn’t have let Steve in the door.

Bucky didn’t look too happy to see her, which didn’t make sense since it was him who had arranged the meeting in the first place. “Nat, why are you still in your madam getup? And don’t call my boyfriend a fucking kitten. You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d seen him in a fight.”

Steve hoped he wasn’t blushing even as he felt blood rush to his cheeks. He would never, ever admit it, but sometimes he kind of liked it when Bucky defended him to people. Even if he could do it himself, there was something reassuring about knowing someone else was happy to have his back sometimes. His therapist would be proud, he thought.

Right, time to somehow make a good impression.

“You must be Natasha? It’s lovely to meet you. And if the kittens you’ve met were anything like the wildcat me and my ma had growing up, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She smiled at him, somehow managing to make it look more threatening than her previous deadpan expression had been. “Steve, it’s a pleasure. And you haven’t met Clint yet either, have you?”

She walked away with a quick look over her shoulder, clearly assuming Steve and Bucky would be following. Which they were, of course. She moved easily through the crowd, a talent that Steve was immediately envious of. How many times had he been stepped on or shoved out of the way when all he was trying to do was get a bartender’s attention? Natasha could probably have walked up to an angry mob and they would have parted for her like the Red Sea.

She led them to a booth Steve wouldn’t even have noticed if he’d been here on his own. The bar they were in was a nice one; he would have to remember where it was next time it was his turn to choose where his friends went for a drink. It was busy without being overly loud, and the decor was a minimalist style that was done well enough to not be boring or sterile. 

The booth was out of the way but still had a fairly good view of the room, which Steve doubted was an accident. It was occupied when they reached it, by a man who Steve assumed was Clint. He’d been mentally preparing himself to meet someone every bit as elegantly terrifying as Natasha, so it was with both surprise and relief that he took in the appearance of Bucky’s other best friend.

Clint was dressed in combat-style fatigues and worn-out boots, which Steve could see because he was lounging with one leg propped up on the padded bench that ran round the edge of the booth. All he had on his upper half was a bright purple tank top, which looked a lot more like it came out of the women’s clothing section than the men’s. He had hair that Steve’s ma would have called dishwater blond, and biceps that Steve was both faintly attracted to and very jealous of. 

“Shove over, birdbrain,” Bucky said in a fond tone that contrasted with his rude greeting.

Clint mock-swooned, back of his hand to his forehead and everything, as he made space for the other three to slide in. “My soldier, I’m wounded. I’ve been waiting so long for your return, didn’t even open my legs when I took a piss.”

“Disgusting as always, Barton,” Natasha said primly - which was not an adjective Steve would have used to describe her at all, so he guessed she was only pretending to be annoyed.

“Natalia! My fiery ice queen! Light of my life, can I get you one of your hideous triple vodkas?” Clint was clearly the overdramatic friend in the group, Steve thought. His mannerisms could only be described as camp, not that Steve wanted to assume anything about his sexuality just because of that.

“She can’t be fire and ice, dumbass,” Bucky interjected. Steve actually thought that was kind of a good description of her, with her red hair and her cool demeanour, but he was feeling too overwhelmed to say that out loud.

“Quadruple vodka. Two ice, one lime wedge, a shot of pineapple juice. If you fuck my drink up I will spill it on my beautiful shoes and make you lick them clean.” 

Couldn’t Bucky have given him a bit more warning about how scary Natasha was? Steve just hoped that he wasn’t expected to keep up with her drinking; four shots of vodka would probably knock him out.

“Can you two quit it with the sex games for one evening?” Bucky actually did sound a bit pissed off at them. Probably on Steve’s behalf, but he refused to feel bad. “I just want to introduce my boyfriend to my friends without scaring him off, okay?”

Time for Steve to step up to the plate. “I don’t scare that easy, Buck, you know that. Hi, Clint. I’m Steve, it’s nice to meet you.”

Clint looked Steve over from head to toe, taking at least five seconds too long to do it. “Pleasure, Steven. What are you drinking tonight?”

“Um. Whiskey and coke, I guess? Just a single, though.”

“Wise choice, my friend. Never try to outdrink Natalia, she has the liver of a thousand Russian men.”

That sounded like some kind of profound statement until you actually unpacked it. Maybe he could learn to appreciate Clint’s sense of humour after all. But Steve was kind of confused by something else, so he turned away from Clint. “Sorry, I thought your name was Natasha?” 

She looked pleased with at least one of them, though god knew which one. “Natasha at home, Natalia at work. Barton is just showing he knows his place.”

“Oh, I see.” He really didn’t, but he wasn’t actually sure he wanted any more information than that. “So, um, what do you do for work?”

Clint snorted. “She runs a brothel, dude.”

Steve had absolutely no response to that, especially when Bucky just closed his eyes with a despairing expression and didn’t immediately jump in to reassure Steve that he was just being messed with.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Clint, who finally showed some sense and put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, sorry, not a brothel,” he said, sounding reluctant. “She runs a high class escort agency, and is in no way involved in any transactions where sex is on the table.” He paused, his expression turning into a leer. _“Under_ the table, though...well, that’s another story.”

Natasha raised one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “What happens in meetings with financial managers stays in the office.”

Bucky abruptly stood up. “Change of plans. Me and Steve are getting the drinks. On Natasha’s tab. And when we come back, you two are _not_ going to mention the finance meeting again, agreed?”

Clint had a wicked look in his eyes that Steve could tell didn’t mean anything good. “You mean the finance meeting where I ate Nat out under her desk for fifty minutes while a bunch of accountants and lawyers talked about contracts?” He had spoken just fast enough that he had got out the entire sentence before Bucky had grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled him up from the table, but not so quickly that every word couldn’t be heard. Which was probably deliberate. God, that was not a mental image he needed in his head right now.

Bucky made a soft moaning noise which instantly made Steve feel guilty for thinking about it in a context other than the bar. Like his flat. Specifically, the bedroom. Now was really not the time.

He took Bucky’s hand as they made their way over to the nearest bartender, squeezing slightly and hoping that was enough to get the message across that he was okay and wanted to check if Bucky was as well.

“God, Steve, I am so sorry.” Bucky honestly looked upset, Steve realised, and he suddenly felt a rush of anger towards Natasha and Clint. 

“Buck, it’s not even remotely your fault.”

“It kind of is, though.” Bucky shrugged, looking like he was beating himself up about something. “They’re punishing me for never letting them meet anyone I was fuck - um, dating. I told them - I told them you were important to me, and now they want to test you or some shit like that. Make sure you’re _worthy,_ which is such bullshit because that’s the wrong fucking way round. Like I could ever be good enough for you, for fuck’s sake.”

Bucky was getting himself way more worked up than Steve was comfortable with, so he pulled gently on his hand until they were walking outside. He wanted them to be able to talk without having to speak over the noise of the bar, and without worrying about whether or not Natasha and Clint were watching them.

They ended up sitting on the steps of the building next door, still holding hands. But Bucky was refusing to look at him, staring down at his knees instead.

Steve sighed. “Bucky, sweetheart. It really, really isn’t your fault. They chose to act like that. And anyway, I’d probably have thought it was funny if it hadn’t been the first time I met them. They don’t seem all that bad, under the - um. You know.”

“Under the weird sex jokes and the constant stream of insults, you mean?” Bucky ducked his head down, then scowled in annoyance as strands of his hair got caught in the shoulder joint of his prosthetic, in the gap by his neck before his t-shirt covered it.

Steve reached over, gently starting to untangle him. “They care about you. Might be a weird way of showing it, but it’s kind of sweet when you think about it.”

“Sweet, huh? That reminds me, Stevie, don’t think I missed you calling me sweetheart a minute ago.”

Steve blushed bright red. “Um, sorry? It just slipped out, I guess.”

Bucky laughed, sounding more at ease. “If I was Clint, now would be an excellent time for a that’s what he said joke.” 

Steve finished pulling the last strand of hair loose from the joints of Bucky’s arm, and he sat back to look at Bucky’s face. Which was frowning again. 

Before Steve could ask what was wrong, Bucky spoke again. “Sorry I said that. That’s, ah, kind of transphobic, right?” He looked unsure of what he was saying, but Steve kept his expression calm and hopefully open. “Like, I mean, if anyone says 'that’s what she said’ it’s usually ‘cause someone said something about putting it in. But, girls can have dicks. And, obviously, other way around too.”

Bucky looked worried the whole time he was speaking, as if he was scared of getting his words wrong, and Steve couldn't help himself. He leaned over, kissed Bucky on the cheek and said: "I love you, you know."

If he'd thought about saying those three words in advance he would have panicked, would have decided that it was much too soon and that he should at least wait before they'd seen each other naked to say that. But now, after he'd actually said them, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Even if Bucky wasn't ready to return the words, or if he maybe didn't feel that way yet. They were getting there. Steve could feel it.

Bucky looked speechless. He checked his phone, probably just so he had something to do that didn't involve replying to Steve's declaration, then winced when he actually read whatever was on the screen. "Ah, shit. I'm letting Nat and Clint know we aren't going back in, okay? We can have a redo another night. They won't mind, I bail on them all the time."

"Sure, sounds good. I wasn't really looking forward to being coherent around Natasha right after Clint told us that story." Steve felt a bit mean even thinking it, but he was kind of loving how flustered Bucky was right now.

"Right. Um, so. My place?" Bucky's voice was definitely more high pitched than normal, right? Steve didn't think it was just his imagination.

"Actually, can we go to mine?" He didn't want to assume anything, but he was getting the sense that at least some seeing-each-other-naked might be on the table tonight. And he really wanted to be as comfortable as possible when that happened for the first time. 

"Course, yeah." Bucky stood and reached a hand out to pull Steve up from the steps. "And, Stevie? I - ah. I liked it. When you called me, y'know. Sweetheart."

Steve couldn't see his own face, but if it was showing anything like what he was feeling, he was pretty sure his smile could have powered New York right then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of sex, sex work, and transphobia. Natasha and Clint aren't very welcoming to Steve and try to make him feel uncomfortable.
> 
> We will see more of Natasha later; in this chapter she is deliberately acting out of character for her so this isn't a good indicator of what she's actually like. As with Sam and Riley, I will hopefully write a short sequel that include Natasha and Clint's points of view.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at end.
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always <3 Special thank you to Absconded for being amazing and pointing out errors I had missed, I really appreciate it!

* * *

Steve loved him. Steve had said he loved him. No big deal. Bucky wasn’t making it into a big deal. Because it wasn’t one. And now they were going back to Steve’s apartment, and it wasn’t like the thought of this hadn’t crossed Bucky’s mind before; it had been in the back of his head all the way back when they’d been joking around about Bob Dylan records and etchings, but that had just been harmless flirting with some cute guy he barely knew and this was - this was _Steve,_ and Bucky couldn’t fuck it up.

He hadn’t actually had sex without anyone since the - since he lost his arm. And it wasn’t like he didn’t think he could work around that from a physical point of view; there were plenty of positions he had already figured out would work for him, and his right arm was easily strong enough to hold his bodyweight for a while.

No, that wasn’t the issue. He just felt different about sex, somehow, since being discharged. He’d had more than his fair share of it, starting from a much younger age than most people, and it was almost like he’d gone so fast and done so much that he’d burnt out on it early. Everyone had joked that he’d never make it in the army with a bunch of straight dudes and the only women around being lesbians - which Bucky had found out early on was complete bullshit, unsurprisingly - but he’d actually found that the pressure of finding a partner, connecting for one night and then never seeing them again had been getting to him, and he had welcomed the excuse that being in the army gave him whenever someone questioned how long it had been for him.

There had been a few hookups since he enlisted, but nothing memorable. Then the IED had gone off and Bucky’s world had - literally - exploded, and in the months of surgeries and physio and prosthetic fittings that had followed, not to mention the time he’d spent mentally trying to come to terms with having only one functioning arm, sex had pretty much been the last thing on his mind.

He hadn’t even jerked off for a while, if he was being honest. He wasn’t uninterested in sex anymore, but he definitely couldn’t picture going back to his days of fucking pretty much anyone willing. No, he wanted sex to mean something now. Which put a whole different kind of pressure on him.

And now here he was, outside the apartment of the person he was starting to - starting to have real feelings for - and he must have spaced out on the walk back or something because Steve was tugging lightly on his hand, bringing him back to the present.

“You okay, Buck? We can call it a night now, if you want?”

Bucky looked at Steve and saw the tense expression that was almost but not quite hidden under a confident smile, and he could have kicked himself. He’d been so caught up in thinking about his own issues with sex that he hadn’t stopped to think about Steve, who had so many reasons to be scared about this.

Bucky hadn’t mentioned this side of his research to Steve, but some of his readings about trans people had been more than upsetting. Articles about assaults and even murders when some bastards saw it as people lying to them, and constant debates about whether relationships between trans and cis people could ever really work. And there was Steve’s own hesitance when he had wanted to make sure Bucky knew he was trans before they started dating.

“I’m good, Steve,” he said. “Come on, chicken.”

“Asshole!” But Steve was laughing, so Bucky would take it as a win.

Once they were inside the apartment, he actually wanted to stop and take a breath for a moment. He liked Steve’s place; there was always some new half-finished painting or sketch to look at, and he felt comfortable in the small - but bright and cosy - space in a way he didn’t feel in his own.

But Steve was making his way straight to the bedroom, with a look of determination on his face that Bucky privately thought would have been more appropriate on a soldier facing a potentially deadly battle rather than on someone who might be about to have sex. 

And that thought _really_ didn’t help his mood.

He followed Steve though, of course, and sat down on the bed. Steve stood in front of him, looking nervous but defiant, and moved his hands to his jeans as though he was about to pull them off.

Bucky put his hand out quickly before any clothes could be removed, gently taking hold of Steve’s waist and tugging him forward until he was sat on Bucky’s lap.

“I just want to make out for a bit, okay?” Bucky kept his voice soft, and was relieved when Steve seemed to relax slightly.

“Whatever, your loss,” Steve said, but the lightness of his tone didn’t conceal the hint of relief in his eyes.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth. Then he ducked his head slightly and touched his lips to the line of Steve’s jaw, where he could feel faint stubble. He smiled against the warm skin; Bucky probably needed to shave about six times for Steve’s one, but he loved any evidence that Steve’s outsides matched the amazing man he was inside. Not for himself, but because he knew that Steve secretly had a lot of insecurities about his body, and anything that could help lessen them was a good thing for both of them.

He could tell that Steve would lose patience with his soft, slow movements any minute now. Sure enough, a second later he felt Steve’s hands holding his face and tilting it so that he was at the perfect angle for a kiss. He didn’t open his eyes, he just let himself be guided to meet Steve’s lips.

He could never get tired of this. He wanted to go back and kick his younger self, who had treated kissing and foreplay as unimportant warmups to the ‘real’ thing. Nothing could be more real than this: his arm holding Steve close, his prosthesis keeping his balance on the bed, Steve’s hand cradling his face, their lips moving over each others and soft breaths being exchanged in place of words.

Eventually, Steve pulled back. Reluctantly, Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve smiling at him, looking properly relaxed for the first time all evening.

“I love you,” Steve said, again. “And I love kissing you. But I really do want to at least suck you off, if you’re okay with that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mentions of sex and both Bucky and Steve feeling slightly uncomfortable at the idea for different reasons. No actual sexual content in this chapter though.
> 
> Also, I hate writing sex scenes so in the 2 that were supposed to be later in the fic I'm afraid I have just done a 'fade to black' sort of thing, so sorry if you were looking forward to them! I put off posting the fic for a few weeks in the hope I would write them but nope. Maybe I will write a standalone scene some other time with them though.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not totally happy with this chapter but chapter 12 is my favourite and I didn't want to have to hold off on posting it while I kept editing this one. Warnings in end notes, feedback very welcome as always :)

* * *

Steve had never thought he'd go to college. He'd dreamed about it, sure, but only in the same way he occasionally fantasised about marrying Sebastian Stan, or having a fully functional dick. He had been so shocked when his ma had left a pile of leaflets about scholarships and funding for low-income students on his bed that he'd reacted by hiding them under the mattress as though they were dirty magazines. Which was ridiculous, since she was the one that had gone to the effort of finding them for him in the first place. But Steve hadn't been able to bring himself to get his hopes up. He'd told his ma he would think about college if he didn't get into the army, and she had smiled and agreed while he pretended he couldn't see how sad her eyes were.

Then, against everyone's expectations, Steve had made it into the United States Armed Forces. He wasn't irritated when everyone reacted to the news with badly concealed surprise; he was as thrown by it as any of them. He had been so sure that Dr Erskine, the physician who had examined him as part of the interview process, had known exactly what the two neat scars beneath his still-healing chest tattoo meant. But all the doctor had said was that Steve should keep his spirits up, since the army would test everyone that went into it.

He had been so close to finishing basic training when the incident in the showers had happened. That was part of the reason thinking about it still made him so angry. It wasn't like he was the newbie recruit, thrown into battle with hardened soldiers. He was part of a team who had all arrived at the base at the same time he had. They had trained together, joked around in the evenings, run drills until they felt like their feet would drop off with every step, sung every drinking song they knew - and a few they really didn't - together. Steve knew that he had more than proved himself to them. And they had betrayed him. 

Deep down, he knew that it was probably only one or two of the men that had actually reported him. But Steve would always, always be of the school of thought that believed in quotes like the one from Desmond Tutu: 'If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.' And sure, maybe some of his team had been scared to stick up for him in case they got a bad rep, or in case people thought they themselves might be queer. Steve could understand the impulse to take the easy road of silence, even if it was one he would never willingly choose to walk himself. But the fact that not one, not a single one of the men who Steve had lived and trained with for weeks, had come forward to put in a good word for him - well, it had hurt.

The one part of the whole horrible situation that he would always be thankful for was that because of his dismissal he had been able to be at his ma's side when she passed. She would have understood if he couldn't be, he knew that, even if he'd been in Afghanistan at risk of dying himself. But he also knew that a tiny part of him would have never forgiven himself if he'd been half a world away at the moment she drew her last breath, instead of sitting beside her in a back-breaking hospital chair, holding her hand till the end.

Steve hadn't known what to do with himself for weeks after she was gone. It felt like he'd been preparing himself for the day he would be alone since he was fifteen years old and Sarah had sat him down and gently explained words like _cancer_ and _mortality_ and _relapse_ to him. Words that he must have known before, of course he must have, but somehow hearing them in his ma's soft voice, knowing that she was talking about herself this time and not some unlucky patient at the hospital where she worked, made them seem newly unfamiliar to Steve's ears.

Steve was nineteen when she died, and the knowledge that it had been around the corner at every moment for the past four years couldn't make it hurt any less. Nothing could. He went through his days as though he was walking through thick fog, interacting with the world but never quite feeling like he was part of it. He took some more hours at the cashier job he'd held for the last two years of high school, knowing that he couldn't bear to use whatever small amount of money his ma had been able to put aside just yet. He stopped sketching, except for one portrait of his ma that he drew for the front of the programme at her funeral. He lost touch with the few school friends he had managed to hang on to. They'd never been that close, anyway. Steve had always felt like they didn't quite understand him.

Then one day, as he was automatically scanning the groceries of two girls - mostly chocolate and energy drinks, so he guessed they were in the middle of studying or something like that - he overheard part of their conversation.

“Mrs Feldner is driving me nuts, I swear. I told her I went to the cinema and she literally just said ‘that’s nice, but don’t forget college applications are due next month.’ Like I’m going to forget that with teachers breathing it down my neck every second?”

The other girl had laughed. “You should totally write your admissions essay on Magic Mike. Then you can tell her you were just going for revision purposes.”

Steve had found himself wanting to ask them about how their applications were going. It was the first time he’d actually been interested in having a conversation with a customer in weeks, but instead he just gave them their total in his usual mechanical voice, taking their money and handing them the change and receipt along with a _have a nice day_ that was slightly more sincere than usual.

Back home after his shift, he had hovered in the kitchen for a few minutes, messing around with some pots and pans in a charade of cooking that he was putting on for an audience that was no longer there. But soon he couldn’t wait any longer, and he went to his room and pulled up his mattress, letting out a long breath when he saw that the little pile of admissions leaflets and grants and loans information were still safely tucked away there.

He shed more than a few tears reading through them all, especially when he got to the financial help sections. His ma had gone over some of them with a biro, circling things that might help and drawing silly little cartoons in the margins.

Right there and then, he had decided that he was going to college. He knew his ma would have said she was proud of him either way, but he also knew that this was what she would have wanted for him, deep down.

Once he had actually made the decision, it had worked out better than he could have hoped for. He had applied to a few of the cheaper art colleges in the area, and had been given a full scholarship to one that ran a degree program affiliated with NYU. The interviews had loved his portfolio, even though not all that much of it was recent. 

The course didn’t start until September, so he had a few months to go. He started painting and sketching again, and tried to improve his Photoshop skills since he knew there was a big module on graphic design. He kept up with his job, and started actually paying attention to the customers again.

And then September came, faster than he’d expected. He loved his classes instantly; he felt a kinship with every student that came only from their shared passions rather than from any actual interactions with them. He kept working, but part time again so that he had time to join a couple of student societies.

Including the LGBTQ society. Which was where things had started to go wrong for him again.

Looking back, everything would probably have worked out if Brock Rumlow hadn’t been the first person to approach him. If Steve had managed to talk to any of the other members first, he might have known when Brock approached him and started up a conversation that everything coming out of his mouth was bullshit. 

Brock had come up to him as soon as he’d entered the room. It was supposed to be a casual meeting, but even so Steve had been surprised there weren’t more people there. He felt sick when he remembered how grateful he’d felt when someone had come and talked to him, and even sicker when he remembered that gratitude only increasing when he’d heard the words _sorry, this is more for the sexuality side of things, not gender crap; people can be really rude here so I don’t want you to get involved and then get all upset._

He had treated it as a well-meant warning, and then when Brock had suggested they go for a coffee on their own to talk about trans issues he had leapt at the idea. He learnt that Brock was cisgender but was really interested in trans people - and, god, why had the tone of his voice when he said _interested_ not tipped Steve off sooner - and before he knew it he was being asked out on a date for the first time in his life.

Their relationship had been fast-paced in every way. Things had got physical within the first couple of weeks, and he remembered feeling thankful that he and Peggy had experimented with sex a few times in high school because as much as he believed that virginity was a social construct, he was beyond glad that his first time hadn’t been with Brock.

He had consented to everything, he reminded himself the morning after it had happened. And Brock had made sense when he'd suggested to Steve that it would help him to be penetrated; after all, Steve had already decided that bottom surgery wasn’t for him, so he should try and become as comfortable with his vagina as he could. Sex would only speed up that process, surely?

But he hadn’t been able to rationalise away the feeling he got when Brock had stopped texting him back two days later. He had hated himself for falling for what in hindsight was clearly some kind of weird obsession rather than any actual interest in Steve, and he had been determined to get through the rest of college with his head down and focus only on his art.

It had worked, in a way. He hadn’t cut himself off from human contact completely, as tempting as the thought had been. But he had looked off campus for something to keep him busy instead of joining any more societies, and had found a volunteer position at the local VA, first helping out with craft sessions aimed at increasing dexterity in vets with mobility issues, and then after a few months co-leading art therapy sessions along with one of the counsellors, Sam Wilson. 

Sam had quickly become a close friend. The art classes were popular; Steve focused on the technique side of things while Sam kept the class going with light-hearted anecdotes and supportive statements disguised as jokes. Sam also helped by being absolutely terrible at anything creative, which Steve could tell made the class feel better about trying their hand at something new.

Sam had known Steve was trans from their first meeting, and had never made it an issue. Which he probably wouldn’t have done anyway, being one of the kindest people Steve had ever met, but when he met Riley he understood just how much it didn’t bother Sam.

Dating had never been a priority for Steve, and after Brock it was something he actively avoided. He hadn’t really felt the lack of either romance or sex in his life until he had met Bucky, and then it had been like something he had forced to become dormant had woken up inside him.

And now they were here, in Steve’s apartment, and they had been kissing for what felt like an hour. Which was wonderful, and he would have been happy to keep it up even longer, but his boxers were so wet that they were getting uncomfortable, and he could feel how hard Bucky was underneath him.

So he pulled back, and asked Bucky if he could give him a blowjob.

The expression on Bucky’s face was hilarious, and Steve would have laughed if he hadn’t wanted to keep the mood a bit more serious than that.

“I - well, I’m not going to say no, Steve, fuck.”

“Good. I’ve been looking forward to this.” He paused suddenly, remembering just how many blowjobs Bucky had probably been given before, and started feeling a bit selfconscious. “It’s my first one, though, so tell me if I get anything wrong.”

Bucky groaned. In a very flattering way. 

“Don’t say things like that out loud if you don’t want me to come right now,” he said, leaning further back on the bed.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Really? You have a virgin kink or something?”

“Fuck no. I may have a slight thing about telling people what to do, though.”

Well, that was interesting. “Like a Dom thing, or?”

“Steve, can we have this conversation another time? And no, not really, just - _fuck me,_ that feels good.”

Steve had literally just placed his hand over Bucky’s crotch and squeezed slightly. That was all. Maybe he shouldn’t have worried so much about not being able to keep Bucky interested in bed.

“No talking, sure,” he said. He pushed Bucky back gently until he was lying flat on the bed, with his legs still on the ground. “I’m sure I can find another way to keep my mouth occupied.”

Bucky let out a choked little laugh, which made Steve grin. Fuck, he’d forgotten how nice sex was when it was _fun,_ when everyone involved wasn’t taking it all too seriously. That was how it had been with Peggy, which was a blessing since he didn’t know how they could have made it past the awkwardness otherwise, and he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it.

He reached up and grabbed a pillow, setting it on the floor between Bucky’s feet, and knelt down. He carefully unbuttoned Bucky’s jeans, smiling a little at the soft sigh of relief he heard as soon as the pressure of the tight material was gone.

He tapped Bucky’s thigh gently, suddenly finding that he really didn’t want to talk very much. But he must have got his point across even without words, because Bucky lifted his hips enough for Steve to tug his jeans and boxers down. He had been going to leave them halfway down Bucky’s thighs, but he thought that looked a bit uncomfortable, so he pulled them all the way down to the ground.

And then, finally, he looked at Bucky’s dick. He realised he should probably actually do something with it, now that they’d made it to this point, but he wanted to take a few moments to just _see_ it.

Steve had probably looked at several hundred pictures of dicks, especially since getting his own laptop. It had sometimes been for masturbation purposes, but he had quickly found that he didn’t actually get all that turned on by just looking at people; he preferred to create his own fantasies inside his head. And he didn’t masturbate very often, anyway.

No, most of his interest in the pictures had come from an almost morbid desire to know exactly what he was missing out on. And later, when he had been considering phalloplasty, he had done some more serious research into what he might want. But it hadn’t taken him long to realise that the level of dysphoria he occasionally felt about his genitals wasn’t even close to the revulsion he’d felt about his breasts, and he had decided that on balance he was happy with his vagina.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t still curious, of course.

Bucky’s dick was - nice. Steve wasn’t going to say that out loud; it seemed like he should be a bit more effusive when staring at his boyfriend’s cock, but it really was. About average size, with more obvious veins than most. He was uncut, which surprised Steve for some reason. He didn’t have much familiarity with foreskin; it was rare for dicks in porn to not be circumcised, and he was looking forward to exploring it fully later.

He reached out and touched it gently, surprised at the instant response he got from just the lightest pressure of his fingertips. Bucky arched his hips off the bed for a second, and his dick looked - impossibly - like it was growing even harder. 

It looked almost painful, if Steve was being honest. He decided to explore some more later, and before he could second-guess himself he bent down to take it in his mouth.

Only to be stopped by a hand on his head.

“Wait, wait.” Bucky’s voice sounded hoarse.

Steve arched an eyebrow, and pointedly closed his hand some more around Bucky’s dick. Now was really not the best time for an interruption.

Bucky swore under his breath and sat up using only his stomach muscles.

“Condom first,” Bucky said abruptly. “Jeans pocket.” 

Steve frowned. “But you said you didn’t have anything?”

“Yeah, I don’t, don’t take someone’s word for it though - fuck.” Steve made a mental note that twisting his hand like that got a very positive response.

Steve was very curious about what it would feel like to have someone coming in his mouth, but he admitted to himself that giving his first ever blowjob might be simpler without that factor added in.

“Sure, condom,” he agreed easily. He couldn’t resist adding: “for now,” and was rewarded with another deep groan from Bucky.

He managed to locate the condom and put on with only a few seconds of fumbling, which he was proud of. Bucky was still sitting on the edge of the bed rather than lying down, but Steve decided that was okay. Even if he was slightly paranoid about what exactly he would look like with a dick in his mouth.

No time like the present to find out.

He wasn’t about to try deep-throating anytime soon, so he kept one hand at the base of Bucky's dick and braced the other on his thigh. Then he slowly moved down and closed his mouth around the head, sucking gently and then harder as he realised he quite liked the feeling.

The taste of latex was jarring at first, but after a moment it faded and all he could focus on was the fact that he could _feel_ Bucky’s pulse on his tongue.

He was going to enjoy this, he decided, humming experimentally to see what kind of reaction that would get.

A very, very interesting one, he discovered half a second later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Steve thinks about his mother dying (of cancer) in this chapter. And also about how he got kicked out of basic training. Then lots of sex stuff/issues surrounding it. Steve remembers his relationship with Brock, who told Steve that the college LGBTQ group was transphobic (a lie), suggested to him that they should have penetrative vaginal sex (Steve consented but the dub-con tag definitely applies because Brock wasn't being honest about his intentions so there was no fully informed consent), and who was generally transphobic and fetishised Steve as a trans man. In the happier future with Bucky, there is some nervousness but mostly fluff, and then about the first third of a sex scene where Steve gives Bucky a blowjob. Oh, also mentions of bottom surgery/phalloplasty.
> 
> I noped out of writing the rest of the blowjob scene so hard (heh) so this is all you're getting sorry! I'm amazed at myself I even managed that much tbh.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I can't wait to post chapter 12, hope I'm not the only one who likes it :s


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite chapter! I hope you enjoy it :) warnings at end.
> 
> Thank you everyone that has commented, I love reading them!

* * *

They were walking to their favourite Italian restaurant, on their way to meet one of Steve’s oldest friends for dinner. Bucky was in a good mood; for once he had two nights off work in a row. And tomorrow was a Saturday, so he’d be able to spend every second of it with Steve. 

“Sharon’s great, you’ll love her,” Steve said. 

“How did you meet her?”

“She actually grew up in Brooklyn as well, but we went to different schools. Um, I actually met her because - you remember me telling you about Peggy?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “One third of the people you’ve slept with, sure, that rings a bell.”

Steve nudged him. “Asshole. Peggy and Sharon are actually cousins, that’s why Peggy came to Brooklyn to do her exchange. She wanted to go to an arty school though, so she ended up at mine, and once we’d started hanging out she introduced me to Sharon.”

“You and Peggy are still in touch, right?”

“Yeah, we are. Not as much as I’d like, really. I’m waiting for either her or Angie - that’s her partner - to propose, then I can justify getting plane tickets to England.”

“We should go on holiday somewhere. Not, like, Europe. Just a weekend away or something.”

“That sounds great.” Steve slipped his hand into the back pocket of Bucky’s jeans, then took it right back out when he looked up and saw they were at the restaurant.

Bucky was slightly nervous, but he remembered how meeting Sam and Riley had gone smoothly and told himself that this would be no different.

Besides, he owed Steve a lot more than an awkward meet-the-friends night after the shitshow introducing him to Nat and Clint had been.

They were a bit early, so they made their way over to their usual table. Instead of sitting opposite each other, they both sat at the side facing the door.

Then about two seconds later, Steve jumped up and waved at the woman walking through the door - and wow, she was gorgeous. Bucky made a mental note to get Steve to show him some pictures of Peggy sometime. Not that he was jealous or anything. He was just curious about the only other decent person - Bucky would never not want to punch Steve’s ex - that Steve had been with.

Steve and Sharon hugged and then made their way over to where Bucky was sitting awkwardly. He had his hand ready to hold out and a hopefully coherent introduction prepared, but that was derailed when Sharon took one look at him and froze, then started laughing.

Bucky had no clue what he looked like right then, but Steve was frowning at Sharon with his disappointed face on. Which was clearly effective on more people than just Bucky, because Sharon stopped laughing straightaway. She leaned over and whispered something in Steve’s ear, which just made Bucky feel even more uncomfortable.

Steve’s eyes went very wide, and he looked over at Bucky with an unreadable expression. What the fuck was going on?

Sharon sat down, looking composed but still amused at whatever the hell that had been. Bucky was feeling pretty selfconscious, and he still wanted to make a good impression on Steve’s friend, but he was already sensing that anything that came out of his mouth would be overly defensive right now.

So he didn’t say anything, just nodded at Sharon and tugged Steve down to sit next to him.

Steve was being oddly quiet, especially since he was the person linking Sharon and Bucky together and should have been the one making the introductions.

“Sorry,” Sharon said, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder in what looked like a practiced gesture. “It really is nice to, ah, meet you, I swear. It’s just - um, this is a bit awkward.”

“Okay?” Bucky really didn’t know what he was supposed to say here. It felt like there was some big joke that he wasn’t being let in on, and he didn’t like that thought at all.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve said, squeezing his knee to reinforce the apology. “I just - really wasn’t expecting that. Um, Sharon?”

Bucky looked at Sharon properly for the first time. She was smiling at him, but she looked slightly nervous as well.

He took a sip of water to calm himself down.

“Alright, this is very weird,” Sharon said, still looking him in the eye. “I lost my virginity to you when I was sixteen.”

Bucky had definitely chosen the wrong moment to have a drink. He choked and the water went down the wrong way, which led to a tense couple of moments where Steve was patting him on the back and he was desperately trying to work out _what the fuck_ he was going to say.

Once he could breathe again he looked closely at Sharon, trying to find something familiar about her. He was getting too worked up about this, he knew he was - hell, he’d slept with half of Brooklyn, it was surprising he and Steve hadn’t run into someone who’d seen his dick before now - but the fact that nothing about either her name or appearance was reminding him of anything was scaring him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve said, putting his arm round Bucky. “I’m sorry, I didn’t - Sharon, you don’t have to, obviously, but would you be okay with telling him?”

“Of course! Sorry, James - ah, Bucky. I honestly wasn’t trying to freak you out, I was just so shocked when I saw you.” Sharon did sound sorry, but that didn’t change the fact that he had apparently slept with her - and it was her first time, which made things so much worse - and he had absolutely zero memory of it.

She took her phone out and started scrolling through it, which seemed rude to Bucky when she had just said she was about to explain things. But then she pushed it across the table to him and he looked at the screen, seeing a teenage boy who he vaguely knew but couldn’t place for a moment - oh. _Oh._

“Simon Carter?” Fuck, fuck, he _knew_ not to deadname people. “Sorry! Shit, I’m sorry. Give me a second here to catch up.” Hopefully Steve and Sharon would forgive him for needing a moment to process - because, yeah, okay, he did remember Sharon, he just remembered her as a skinny boy in the year above him who had been assigned to Bucky as a math tutor in a last-ditch attempt to help his failing grades.

He didn’t think he’d got much better at math because of her, but he had definitely improved his skills at a few other things.

Steve tightened his arm around Bucky a little, which hopefully meant he wasn’t upset about him accidentally calling Sharon by her old name. This had to be the most awkward situation Bucky had ever been in - well, unless he counted being on the periphery of Nat and Clint’s entire relationship - and he had no idea how to proceed.

“So, um,” he started saying, before realising he had no idea where he was going with that inauspicious beginning. “Sorry?”

“Why are you saying sorry?” Steve was the one to ask, not Sharon, and Bucky could really use some kind of mind-reading ability right now, because he had absolutely no idea how Steve was reacting to the not-so-small revelation that one of his friends had once had sex with his current boyfriend.

“Sorry I called you - you know?”

Bucky decided that no eye contact was definitely the way to go for the rest of this conversation. He stared down at the table, vaguely wondering if it would be better if he was able to set it on fire with his eyes to create a distraction, or if plain old invisibility would be a better superpower for him to suddenly be blessed with.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sharon said. “You knew me as Simon for a while, I can forgive you for being a bit, ah, surprised.”

“Yeah.” Surprised. That was a bit of an understatement, but sure. Bucky didn’t think that was the only thing he should be apologising for, though. “Well, sorry for, y’know. Giving you a shit first time and all.”

“Bucky,” Sharon said, sounding incredulous. “You ate me out for like half an hour and called my dick a clit the entire time when I mentioned that was how I thought of it. I couldn’t have had a better first time if I’d _hired_ someone.”

He knew that his entire face, and probably his ears as well, was bright red right now. His relief at having an explanation for why he hadn’t remembering hooking up with Sharon was fading quickly, and embarrassment was taking over.

Thank fuck they’d decided to meet early for dinner. At least all the tables around them were empty. 

“And you were only fifteen!” Sharon continued, even though Bucky was mentally pleading for the roof to suddenly collapse on him. “Steve, you’re a lucky guy, seriously.”

“I know I am,” Steve said, sounding both horribly fond and also like he was two seconds away from bursting into laughter at Bucky’s expense.

Bucky tried to think of any other topic that he could bring up. He didn’t care if it was the most unsubtle subject change in human history; nothing could be worse than this.

“Where the fuck is our server?” That would do.

“Ah,” Steve said, sounding amused. “Funny story. He sort of came over when Sharon was talking about the clit thing. Pretty sure he decided to give us a few more minutes.”

Fuck his life.

“I’m glad it didn’t suck,” he said, still not looking anywhere close to Sharon’s direction. “But, I don’t think I actually knew about, um, trans people back then. I just - I thought it was a kinky sex thing, so I still owe you an apology.”

“That’s not your fault, Buck,” Steve interrupted before Sharon could say anything. “Education on LGBTQ issues is terrible in high schools, you’re basically blaming yourself for not being psychic.”

“Steve’s right. I honestly have no idea why I told you I preferred to use the word clit instead of dick.” How the fuck was she talking about this so casually? “I was a bit overwhelmed, and you were very sweet.” Great, _sweet._ He was certain that was not the image his fifteen-year-old self had been going for. “But you could have ignored me, or laughed at me, or told everyone at school. Instead you went along with it in the nicest way possible. I don’t care if you just thought it was a sex thing, it meant a lot to me. Still does.”

Steve leaned in and gave him a kiss on his - probably still red - cheek. “I’m so glad I met you,” Steve said quietly. “Hey, we can head home if you want to?”

 _Home._ Not _my place._ Bucky didn’t think Steve had registered his casual use of the word, but it made something inside him light up in recognition.

He thought about accepting the offer; he knew it was meant sincerely, but he decided that at least there was no way the evening could get any more embarrassing. And he did want to get to know Steve’s friends. He still felt bad about how Natasha and Clint had acted when they met Steve, and he made a mental note to try a more casual setting for the next time he introduced the three of them.

“I’m good if you two are,” he said, finally looking back up at Sharon. “Least we didn’t have the awkward small talk problem, I guess.”

Sharon laughed. “Talk of genitals and long lost sex buddies does beat discussing the weather.”

Naturally, their waiter had picked that moment to come back up to them. He bravely stood his ground this time, and they all ordered quickly with apologetic glances at him. Bucky really hoped this wasn’t the last time they could eat at this place, but he had a feeling they should at least take a break before coming back.

Thankfully, conversation flowed smoothly after that. Sharon was witty and intelligent and about a thousand times more confident than he remembered her being when she went by Simon, which made him smile. He wondered if Steve had helped her when she decided to transition, but didn’t want to ask in case it was a sensitive subject.

He stayed fairly quiet, letting Steve and Sharon steer the conversation, but despite the abysmal start he did end up enjoying the evening. He couldn’t stop himself from sending Steve a few sidelong glances throughout the meal; it was hard for him to believe that his boyfriend honestly wasn’t bothered by the whole situation.

But Steve just met his eyes every time with a smile and an occasional squeeze of his hand where it was resting on Bucky’s leg, and at the end of the meal Sharon hugged them both and told them they were the cutest couple she’d ever seen and that she was beyond happy for them, so Bucky decided to stop second-guessing his life and just accept it, weirdness and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: detailed mentions of underage sex, someone accidentally deadnames a trans character, people talk about sex in public places, Bucky gets anxious because he can't remember someone he'd slept with. Bucky talks about how he had thought an aspect of someone being trans was a 'kinky sex thing' in the past (he knows better now of course).
> 
> They shouldn't really be talking about this in a restaurant, I worked as a server for years and Bucky, Steve and Sharon will definitely have been a topic of discussion behind the scenes. Plus, you know, sex talk can make people uncomfortable for various reasons. They were just very taken by surprise here.
> 
> Any feedback is more than welcome!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly uneventful chapter. Warnings at end. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Especially those who have left kudos/comments, it's so nice to see them! Sorry I didn't update for a while, I got very distracted by the Sam/Steve week prompts.

* * *

Steve glared at the state-of-the-art computer that took up half his workstation. 

“With all due respect, Ms Potts, I don’t need anything more than my tablet to get my work done.”

Pepper Potts looked at him in that way she had which made Steve feel about two inches tall. He guessed that she could tell exactly how much respect he felt Tony Stark was due for his _helpful_ gesture of upgrading the entire graphic design office with new desktops.

It wasn’t that Steve was ungrateful. Well, okay, he knew that was exactly how he was coming across. It was just so _unnecessary._ Most of Steve’s work was still sketched out in plain old pencil and then scanned into his tablet, where he could touch up the designs and send them to the rest of the department. He could see how a giant computer would be useful for someone like Darcy, who created all the lettering and did the proof-reading for the descriptions of any new products. Or for Scott, who acted like he did nothing but watch shitty porn but then somehow managed to throw everyone else’s bits and pieces together into a beautifully laid out advert or new webpage by the end of their workday.

But Steve really didn’t need any extra technology to get his work done, and he hated the excess of this industry. His industry, he admitted to himself with reluctance. He didn’t actually want to stop working for Stark Industries; they might disagree on more than a few issues but Steve secretly admired the commitment Tony Stark had made to switching the focus of his company from weapons manufacturing to clean energy. At his interview he had double-checked that every single weapons division was in the process of being phased out before he'd agreed to answer any other questions, and luckily that approach had amused Stark rather than angered him.

“Steve, take it as a compliment,” Pepper said with a long-suffering expression. Steve was surprised that wasn’t her only expression, with the amount of work she did keeping the company - and Stark, if the rumours were true - stable. “When Tony feels like he owes someone something, no matter how small, he responds by buying them some piece of overpriced technology. It’s just how he works.”

Well, that was a waste of money. And completely illogical.

“He literally pays me to draw things for him. He can’t owe me anything beyond my paycheque.”

“Mr Stark was very appreciative of the concept art pieces you did for his new clean energy reactors. This is how he wanted to show that appreciation.”

Oh. Well, Steve had been proud of those drawings. And had maybe stayed at work a bit later than usual to finish them off, but that wasn't the point. He still wasn’t sure if it had fully sunk in for him that he was getting _paid_ for creating art, anything beyond that would just make him uncomfortable.

“I don’t need a computer, though,” he said, refusing to back down.

“Do you _want_ one?” Pepper asked, raising an eyebrow.

From the moment he had walked into the office this morning and seen his desk Steve had known that any protests would be useless. But, as with so many things in his life, it was the principle of the thing. A computer like that could have been used for so many other things. Or it could have not been built in the first place, and the money could have gone to a much better cause.

“Ah - no, not really. I like being able to draw over the whole desk? I can move my tablet out of the way, I can’t really do that with - this.”

He gestured weakly to the gold-chrome coloured machine. It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, which was no surprise. StarkTech didn’t actually have a line of computers, but Steve wouldn’t put it past Tony Stark to have designed his own just for use in the Tower.

“Hmm,” Pepper said, in a tone that revealed not a hint of what she was thinking. “Perhaps one of the computers in reception is due for an upgrade.”

Steve felt bad. “No, no, I’m sorry. I really am grateful to Mr Stark. It’s just - couldn’t he have asked first?”

“Ah, I’m afraid you’ve hit on one of the great mysteries of Tony Stark there, Steve,” Pepper said with a smile. “I’ll reassign the computer, think nothing of it. Your projects for the day are on the whiteboard, as usual.”

Steve glanced over to the board, which had been another point of contention between him and Mr Stark. Phrases like _completely unnecessary expense_ had been thrown around by Steve when Stark had wanted to install some kind of holographic screen to store notes, while Stark’s rebuttals had been more along the lines of _this isn’t preschool in a third-world country, Rogers, are you sure you aren’t ninety?_

Steve was still proud of winning that victory, even though Darcy and Scott usually just used the board to play their own version of noughts and crosses. The official title of their game was ‘tits and testicles,’ and Steve valiantly ignored any small circles that showed up in the middle of his detailed instructions on how to integrate his drawings into the adverts without messing up the resolution.

He hoped that Pepper had no idea what either the circles with a dot in the middle or the ones with little spikes of hair coming out of them meant, but he had a feeling that not much passed her by.

Once Pepper had left, with an assurance that someone from IT would be by later to move the computer, Steve sat down at his desk and sighed in frustration. That really hadn’t been what he’d planned to do with his morning when he had left for work early. He’d been hoping to get everything done in time for him to leave at six on the dot, so that he could at least spend an hour or so with Bucky before he had to go into work.

Having a work schedule that was the complete opposite of your partner’s _sucked._ Steve put his head on his desk, trying to calm himself down before anyone else arrived for the day.

“Roger, Rogers!” 

Steve groaned very quietly. “Hi, Darcy.”

“Bad night?” No, wait. Good night?” Darcy’s tone was dripping with innuendo, which was far from unusual. Steve was reluctantly impressed - and scared - by the way she managed to make even a request for paperclips sound like a come-on.

“Whatever you’re thinking, nothing like that.”

“Aw, shame. No more stories about your guy fucking your high school sweetheart by accident?”

Steve laughed as he remembered the look on Darcy and Scott’s faces when he’d told them about the night Bucky and Sharon had met. He’d kept most of the details of the story to himself, but they had still found it hilarious.

“High school sweetheart’s cousin. And more fuckbuddy than sweetheart, really.”

Darcy made a sound of mock disapproval. “Steven, you have hidden depths. Here was I thinking you were an all-American good boy.”

“Pretty sure having meaningless sex is a favourite American pastime, actually. Is Scott coming in this morning?”

Scott’s work ethic was - sporadic, to say the least. As in, sometimes it was there in spades, and sometimes he seemed to have left it behind in whatever bar had kicked him out the night before. Pepper had said more than once that he reminded her of Tony: irritatingly inconsistent but so talented when he actually put his mind to it that she wouldn’t dream of firing him.

“Mmm. He better. Did you see what I did to every letter O on the board?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It was hard to miss. Ms Potts was here, I bet she noticed as well.”

Darcy didn’t seem even slightly concerned by that news.

“No problem,” she said smugly. “They can’t fire me anymore, so I could draw dicks all over the ceiling if I wanted to.”

“What do you mean, they can’t fire you?”

“My best friend from college is consulting with Stark on some Einstein level shit. No way would he risk pissing Jane off.”

“Lucky you,” Steve said with only a trace of bitterness.

“Aw, don’t worry. Like they’d ever chuck you. I hear rumours about pay raises for certain extra dedicated members of staff, and your name was being thrown around.”

“Seriously? How would you even hear that?”

“I banged a guy in HR,” she said, with more than a hint of pride in her voice.

Before Steve could reply, the door opened again and Scott stumbled through, looking like his hangover had come to life, run him over, and then buried him in a dumpster.

“Morning, Scotty!” Darcy’s voice was deliberately loud; Steve would have put money on it.

Scott’s only reply was a long groan. He was lucky Pepper had left already; she was a fairly easy-going boss so long as they got all their work done on time, but Steve was pretty sure she had her limits and that only someone very brave would dare to cross them.

“Darce, you gotta give me a chance to catch up with the tits,” Scott complained, looking at the whiteboard and sounding slightly more alive now that he'd seen all the new little circles that had appeared. “Steve, you sure you don’t want in?”

“I’ve managed to resist the urge to draw genitals on our workplace so far, I think I’ll try and keep that an unbroken record,” Steve said dryly. “I’m going to make a head start on the ad for the mini solar panels, okay?”

“Your loss, buddy.” 

Scott stared blankly at the board, eyes glazing over. Steve knew it would take him a few minutes to actually take in their instructions for the day, so he turned back to his desk, grabbing the first mostly blank sheet of paper he could see and sketching out a rough outline of the design that had been buzzing around in his head since he had seen what today’s project was.

Part of Steve had wanted to make a joking comment about how he wasn’t that familiar with either tits or testicles anymore, but he had never come out as trans at work and he honestly wasn’t sure if anyone knew. He was fairly sure no-one did, except maybe Ms Potts.

He had told Darcy and Scott about Bucky, glad to have something to respond with when they teased him about being a shy little virgin, and they hadn’t seemed bothered by that at all. If anything, Darcy seemed a bit too into the idea of two men fucking, so Steve tried to avoid giving her details about Bucky’s appearance. She had probably facebook stalked him already anyway.

But, as much as he hated the thought, he knew it wasn’t that unusual for people to be not at all homophobic but still uncomfortable with trans people. Hell, there was a lot of transphobia even within the LGBTQ community - Steve vividly remembered overhearing two gay men talking about how _disgusting_ and _confusing_ vaginas were and how they were so glad that they would never have to look at one. It was still one of his least favourite memories.

So acceptance of Steve and Bucky’s relationship didn’t necessarily mean his co-workers would be okay with him being trans. And he was fine with being closeted at work in that respect; he even kind of liked the knowledge that no-one there would ever accidentally slip up with his pronouns, or make a joke about what was in his underwear.

He didn’t feel bad for keeping it from Darcy and Scott. It wasn’t any of their business, and he liked them both but they weren’t particularly close friends outside of work. 

The sketches he was absentmindedly finishing off looked almost cartoon-like when he looked properly at them, which hadn’t really been intentional. They looked alright, just a bit too childish to really fit in with the instructions they’d been given. Still, maybe they could be useful for something. Half the battle with clean energy was giving people enough information on it that they would want to actually use it, after all, and where better to start educating the world than in schools?

He reached for his tablet, scowling when his hand knocked into the fancy desktop. He could send a quick email to Pepper with his idea, and maybe it wouldn’t end up going anywhere, but it was worth a try.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he saw an email from Bucky waiting, even though he was logged onto his work account and not his personal one.

‘Best of both worlds!!!’ was the subject, and Steve glanced around to check what the others were doing before clicking on it. Not that he thought Bucky would have sent him porn or anything, especially not to his work email, but he preferred to know which details of his relationship were being shared with his co-workers, and he wouldn’t put it past either of them to read the message over his shoulder.

Darcy looked like she was actually getting down to some work, which was a pleasant surprise, though since he couldn’t actually see her screen she could have been watching cat videos for all he knew. Scott was standing by the coffee machine, watching it with his eyes glazed over as though that would help it boil faster.

Steve went back to his tablet and opened the email. There was no message inside, only a youtube link, which he clicked after making sure that the sound was turned off. He laughed - silently, of course - as he saw the video, which was a metal band covering one of Steve's favourite Bob Dylan songs. He wasn't about to listen to it at work, even with headphones in, but it was nice to know that Bucky had been thinking of him.

He sent a quick reply back, hoping that Bucky wasn’t having a bad day. It was a lot earlier than most people would have been awake after a 3am finish the night before, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything since Bucky’s sleeping habits were terrible even at the best of times.

Steve’s own good mood dimmed a little as he thought about Bucky’s job. It wasn’t his place to say anything, but he hated the look in Bucky’s eyes every time he left for work. It wasn’t just the regular fed-up expression that plenty of people got at the thought of having to deal with irritating customers or an overbearing boss. It went deeper than that; Steve could see Bucky’s usually expressive face shutting down, and a horrible sort of mask coming over it instead.

Steve didn’t really know what kind of abuse bouncers had to deal with, but he was guessing it could get pretty bad even in a nice bar or club, and from everything he’d heard about Bucky’s workplace he privately thought that _nice_ would be the last word he would use to describe it. Add to that a boss who seemed to have some kind of unexplained vendetta against Bucky, and co-workers who sounded like they were probably only one loss of temper away from getting arrested, and it sounded like a hellish working environment.

And he couldn’t do anything about it. Steve didn’t buy into Bucky’s insistence that no-one else would ever hire someone with one arm and mental health issues. He’d seen people in much worse situations at the VA, and while some of them hadn’t been able to find work, plenty of them had managed to get their lives back on some sort of track they were happy with, helped along by the counsellors and case-workers.

But the few times Steve had tried to bring that up, or suggested that Bucky at least talk to Sam to see what else might be out there, Bucky had changed the subject so obviously that Steve had given up. It was very far from an ideal situation, but Steve wasn’t about to give Bucky an ultimatum, so he would just keep going on the way things were and hope that something would happen to change things up without him and Bucky getting into a huge fight.

In the meantime, he had his project to finish, and a lunch break with his boyfriend to look forward to, and, well, if things weren’t as perfect as they could be, he could comfort himself with the knowledge that they could be - and had been - a whole lot worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mostly just Steve thinking about transphobia, including within the LBGTQ+ community. 
> 
> This was actually the last chapter I wrote which means that Darcy, Scott, Pepper, and Tony will not reappear in the fic (but they might do if there are sequels).
> 
> Next chapter is the angstiest (is that even a word) in the fic and I am very hesitant to post it :s I will do of course, this isn't going to be an unfinished work. Feedback appreciated as always.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do not like this chapter (because of the content, the actual writing is about the same as previous chapters I assume). I'm going to warn for it here instead of in the end notes because 'ableism' doesn't quite cover it and it's not something you would guess: in this chapter Bucky meets an amputee fetishist. Detailed, long warnings are in the end notes. Please, please don't feel like you have to justify it if you don't want to read this chapter/any others. If you want to keep going with the fic, I will include a tl:dr in the end notes here. 
> 
> My intention here was to write about some of the worst societal aspects people with certain physical disabilities have to deal with; I did research it, but I am very open to criticism on this chapter more than any other. I WILL edit it if it turns out I have portrayed anything insensitively. I don't have anyone that can beta this or read it for me before I click post, so I will honestly appreciate it if you tell me I fucked up. I promise.
> 
> Thank you so much for responses to this story so far <3 It's a very personal one for me, and it means so much that people have read along even with it being a WIP. Last 2 chapters should be up within a few days.

* * *

Bucky would rather have been literally anywhere than at his job tonight. He realised that feeling that way was probably a sign he should try something new, but he wasn’t sure if he even had any other options. Pretty much every job he’d had in his life, up to and including the army, had involved manual labour of some kind, and it wasn’t like he had the qualifications for anything else.

But Saturday nights were almost enough to make him want to quit despite that, even if he had zero hope of any potential employers taking pity on him long enough to hire him. Not only was Saturday a busy night for bars anyway, they always put on a shit promotion that people fell for every week. Tonight it was three shots for the price of two. Bucky couldn’t help but notice that in a shocking coincidence, shots tonight were priced at three dollars instead of two. Not that any of the customers seemed to care; they just drunkenly pocketed their change without even checking it, a fact which Bucky knew one of the more dickish bartenders took full advantage of.

But that wasn’t his problem. His problem was the people outside wanting to get in without the five dollar entry fee. Bucky secretly agreed with them that it was bullshit for a bar to have an entry fee unless there was live music on, but he was getting paid to look intimidating enough that they wouldn’t protest too much, and usually it worked.

Tonight, though, he’d already had one person _spit_ at him - thankfully with fucking terrible aim, it didn’t even splash his jacket - and a group of assholes on a pub crawl that kept trying to flash everyone huddled outside for a smoke.

Bucky hated people. Especially drunk people.

Thankfully, things died down after midnight, and the only issue he had until 2am was a couple of college kids with some of the worst fake IDs he’d ever seen. They didn’t argue with him when he sent them packing, and one of them actually apologised to him, so he was inclined to be more amused than pissed off at their attempt to sneak in.

Just after two, a guy came up who Bucky thought he’d seen around the place before. He looked maybe forty-ish, and he was on his own - which wasn’t unprecedented, but it was fairly unusual. Bucky tried to keep an eye on the guys that came to bars solo; usually they were just looking for a bit of company, which he couldn’t do anything about unless - or _until,_ in nine out of ten cases - they got rejected and started causing trouble. Or worse, decided that every woman in the bar was fair game whether she wanted to be approached or not.

He had a feeling that this guy was after a different kind of company tonight, if the look he was giving Bucky was anything to go by.

It would be far from the first time he’s been hit on at work if that did turn out to be the case, though usually it was by flirty college girls rather than balding middle-aged men.

Brock, the other bouncer on duty tonight, had fucked off twenty minutes ago, claiming he was going to take a piss. Bucky wasn't going to bother complaining to his supervisor; Brock had been here for years and would probably get away with literal murder if they could avoid calling the cops.

Anyway, it wasn't like Bucky couldn't take this guy on his own if it turned out he was one of their more violent customers.

“Hi there,” the guy said, looking like he was trying to be charming but just coming off as creepy. Not an uncommon problem for the men that hung around the bar.

“Hi.” Bucky nodded, but hoped that he had sounded as dismissive as he’d been aiming for. He unfortunately wasn’t allowed to tell anyone to fuck off, though he was glad that as a bouncer he was at least exempt from the ‘customer is always right’ policy that the bartenders were supposed to live by.

“I’m Arnim.” I don’t care, Bucky thought with more venom than usual. He really didn’t like the look of this guy, though he couldn’t put his finger on why.

“James.” Like hell was he going to give his nickname out at work. “Not supposed to talk on the job though, sorry.”

Hopefully that would be enough to make him back off.

“Oh, no! I’m not hitting on you! Ew.”

Fucking hell. Bucky raised his eyebrows, deliberately staying silent because he knew that made people nervous.

“Not that you’re not, um. I would if I was gay? No, but I wanted to ask you something! I keep seeing you and losing my nerve.”

This would be making a lot more sense if the guy was drunk. Bucky had been on the unwilling receiving end of some of the weirdest conversations of his life with customers here. Everything from philosophical ramblings on whether or not we really had free will to a surprisingly well-though-out monologue on the dangers of fracking in occupied land.

But he was very, very good at knowing how sober someone was, and this guy was barely tipsy.

He clearly wasn’t going away anytime soon, though, and Bucky was cold and bored.

“Fine,” he said. “What did you want?”

The guy smiled, which turned his expression from one that Bucky had found a little suspicious to what could only be described as _very fucking creepy._

“Oh, thank you! I have, like, this fantasy, you see.” 

Jesus, Bucky regretted everything already. He was certain that his face was reflecting that as well, but the guy clearly didn’t give a fuck.

“So, basically, it’s me fucking someone - a woman, I mean, obviously - but like, with no arms or legs? Just her body, me moving it for her, man, I’m getting hot just thinking about it. So, like, I was hoping I could see your stump? Obviously you’re a guy, but I really want to see one in real life, you know? Research purposes and all.”

Bucky felt like his brain was shutting down. He was still standing up because his legs were locked in place. He turned round, moving stiffly, and walked inside, heading straight for the back office. He was on autopilot. He heard distant sounds of someone calling after him, but he blocked it out.

His supervisor looked up and frowned.

“Barnes? Why the fuck aren’t you on doors? Get back out there.”

Bucky opened his mouth. And closed it again. He clenched his teeth together until he could hear a grinding sound inside his head.

He took a pen from the desk and wrote on the closest piece of paper:

I QUIT

“No you fucking don’t, Barnes, come on. As if anyone’s going to hire you, I did you a fucking favour.”

He underlined the words and dropped the pen.

“Fine, see if I even care,” his supervisor said. “We’ll have you replaced by tomorrow. You think you’re special? Fucked up army guys, you’re two a penny. Maybe we won’t get a fucking cripple next time.”

He left out of the staff entrance. 

He was numb for the entire walk home, both physically and mentally.

He got back to his building. It took him six tries to open his apartment door. You had to move the handle up at the same time as you turned the key. Normally he could do the handle with his hip, but his body wasn’t obeying him tonight; he couldn’t make himself move at the right moments.

There was a piece of paper that had been pushed under the door. It was face up; he could read it without making any effort.

_Due to unfortunate circumstances…housing market as competitive as it is...we regret to inform you of a rent increase from $550 to $650 per month....apologies for any inconvenience this may cause you._

It wasn’t personalised. They had just stuck the same flyer under every door in the building. He didn’t have the energy to care. 

He went through to his bedroom. He kicked his shoes off, but everything else felt like it would take an impossible effort to remove.

Distantly, he realised that he had never wanted to not exist quite as much as he did then. Not even in the first few days after he’d lost his arm.

He took his phone out of his pocket, almost losing his grip when his fingers wouldn’t cooperate with his brain.

Steve would be asleep.

Natasha would be awake but at work. 

Clint was mostly nocturnal but hardly ever knew where his phone was.

He wanted to go to sleep. And never wake up. He wanted every memory of tonight to be wiped from his mind. Clean slate.

He opened a blank message, and added Steve, Natasha and Clint as the recipients.

He stared at his phone. The screen went dark. He pressed a random key and it lit up again.

He did that four more times. Then he started typing.

**come over if you can**

It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to say _I’m sorry I’m a fuck up_ and _ignore me if you’re busy_ and _I really want to be dead right now and I’m scared._

He pressed send.

Then he lay down on the bed, fully clothed, and closed his eyes.

* * *

He didn’t startle into wakefulness when he heard someone moving in the living room. He felt like he was being dragged up slowly through a sea of mud, and he didn’t know how long it took before he cracked his eyes open to see - 

Natasha?

He meant to ask _what are you doing here?_

But something got lost on the way and it came out as a garbled mess, so he closed his mouth again.

“Oh, James.” Natasha looked worried, which was out of character for her. Not the being worried part; she was human, as much as she liked to pretend she was above such petty things as emotions. But letting people _see_ what she was feeling, that was rare.

He needed to pee, badly. But for some reason he felt too heavy to even begin to move, so he lay still and tried to ignore the pain in his bladder. The remains of his left arm were aching; he usually slept on his right side but for some reason he’d passed out on his left - oh, _fuck._

He remembered now, why he felt like he’d been run over by a truck and then scraped off the ground. 

He must have made some kind of noise, because Natasha inhaled sharply and started tapping away at her phone.

“Clint is coming over,” she said. “I am sorry, James. I read the note your landlord left you.”

Note? Oh, that. 

“Don’t give a fuck,” he tried to say. The only recognisable word was _fuck,_ but hopefully Natasha would have got the gist. She was scarily good at reading people.

“That’s not why you’re - like this?” Natasha didn’t sound at all judgemental, which he wasn’t surprised by. She had seen him blackout drunk and sobbing on her office floor because he wanted to hire a prostitute but his dick had stopped working after Afghanistan.

He had no idea how she had seen that as the start of a potential friendship rather than a reason to call the cops, but he would never stop being grateful.

He shook his head in answer, then winced as even that small movement made his lower stomach ache.

“Piss,” he said, eloquently.

“Oh, do I finally get to see your dick?”

Natasha helped him sit up, ignoring his moaning, and let him lean on her while he stood. He swayed for a moment, but stayed upright, and they made it to the bathroom without any major incidents.

“I’m not actually going to hold your dick for you,” she said. “Want to sit down? Like you’re being potty-trained all over again. Some people are into that, you know.”

“You would make such a shit nurse,” Bucky said, feeling slightly more human now that he was on his feet.

“Nurse kink, so common. Men love being babied.”

She helped him lean against the wall and went as far as unbuttoning his trousers for him, then moved behind him to give him some space. He managed to get his dick out and sighed in relief as he let his bladder go.

“Nice. But I thought some of your family are Jewish?”

Apparently even the illusion of privacy had been too much to hope for.

“What the fuck, Nat?”

“I was curious, sue me. Really though, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a turtleneck.”

Bucky groaned, knowing exactly what she was going to say next.

“Ooh, accidental pegging reference,” Natasha said, sounding way too happy about having the sense of humour of your average twelve year old boy.

“Oh my god, Nat. Please stop talking about sex stuff. Or my dick.”

“It’s worrying to me that you listed those things separately, James. And you should do your research into pegging, you know.”

What the fuck? Oh, Steve. Jesus, that hadn’t even occurred to him. He decided to think about that another time, since he was pissed enough at Nat having looked at his dick when it was soft. She didn’t need to see it in every state.

They went back to the bedroom and sat down on Bucky’s bed. He was already feeling a lot better than before, but he was still beyond angry when he thought about what had happened at the bar.

Something crossed his mind then, and he turned to Natasha, already prepared to be pissed off at her.

“Hey, did Steve tell you? About, you know. Things.” He couldn’t have done, he hadn’t spoken to Natasha without Bucky, but he wanted to make sure.

“Such a poet, James. No, but he was wearing a wristband with the transgender pride flag when we met, and his adam’s apple is rather small. Am I wrong?”

Why did Natasha have to be so creepily observant all the time?

“You’re not supposed to out people,” he said, feeling like he was sat in a hole and just digging himself even deeper.

“Fine. I shall ask him when he arrives, then.”

“No! That’s so rude, Nat - wait, what do you mean? Steve’s coming?”

“I assume so. You did text him, didn’t you? Clint is on his way also, though knowing Clint he will be taking a detour to find his garbage food.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “I’m really not in the mood for a freegan meal. Want to order pizza? I’ll wait to tell you about the, you know, thing until Clint’s here. And Steve won’t be coming, he’ll still be asleep.”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s after six, he will be waking up soon. I am sure he will come as soon as he reads your message.”

“Shit, really?” His blinds were drawn and it still felt like the middle of the night. He was surprised he’d slept at all, let alone for over three hours.

“Yes. I received your text at five. I didn’t check my phone for a while; I was busy with a...demonstration.”

“Don’t want any details. I’m surprised you got hold of Clint. He’s shit at keeping track of his phone.”

“Oh, I have a special ringtone. He knows he must answer.”

“So every time he ignores my calls he’s just being an asshole?”

“He doesn’t hear his phone much. My ringtone is very - noticeable.”

Bucky didn’t want to know what that meant.

“Wait, how did you get in?”

Natasha looked at him. “You left your door wide open. I was, well. Concerned. I brought my lockpicks in case. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to use them.

He sometimes wondered about what percentage of Natasha’s life story he would know if he added up everything she had told him, or that he’d picked up from Clint. He thought it was probably a very small number.

Just then they heard a knock on the front door; Natasha must have closed it behind her.

Bucky decided that he didn’t feel like getting up, but when he heard Natasha greeting not only Clint but Steve as well - though he had no idea why they had arrived together - he jumped up and made his way into the living room.

“Bucky!” Steve went straight over to him and hugged him. Bucky put his arm round Steve instinctively, but still felt off balance.

“Hey, man,” Clint said. “How’s it hanging?”

“Ask Nat,” Bucky said dryly.

“Clint, did you know James isn’t circumcised?” Natasha looked more relaxed now that Clint was in the room. Which Bucky was happy about, but that didn’t mean he appreciated her steering the conversation back towards his dick.

“Why the fuck would I know that? I didn’t need to know that! How do _you_ know that?”

“I cradled it gently in my hands while he took a piss,” Natasha said in a deadpan voice. “What food did you bring?”

“Jesus, Nat,” Bucky interrupted, remembering that this was only the second time Steve was meeting Natasha and Clint. “She didn’t touch my dick, she looked at it because she has no sense of boundaries.”

He felt Steve shrug. “Eh, it’s a very nice dick. Don’t blame her for wanting a look.”

Clint laughed. “I like him! Barnes, you lucked out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Steve’s head and ignoring how true Clint’s words were.

“You okay?” Steve asked quietly. “I was really worried. I’m sorry I only just got your text.”

Bucky pulled back slightly and looked at Steve. Who was still in his pyjamas, with a hoodie thrown on over the top.

“I’m fine, babe. You could have taken the time to get dressed.”

Steve didn’t meet his eyes. “I tried calling, but your phone must have died.”

He tugged Steve closer to him again, and Steve took the opportunity to bury his head in Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I was in a pretty bad state. I’m alright now. Well, better.”

He looked up to see that Natasha and Clint had attempted to give them some privacy by setting out the food on Bucky’s coffee table - takeaway Indian, thankfully; Bucky had had some good meals from Clint’s dumpster expeditions but they were very hit and miss - and getting out four glasses of water.

He moved over to the couch, Steve following behind him. Natasha and Clint looked happy sat on the floor, and the table was low enough that it was a good height for them. He should probably invest in some more furniture now that he knew more than two people.

Oh. He was moving out. Now would not be a good time to go furniture shopping.

“So, I guess I need to find a new place,” he said, grabbing the closest plate and putting a couple of samosas on it. It was kind of a weird breakfast, but he couldn’t care less.

Steve looked alarmed. “Wait, why?”

“You didn’t see the note? Rent’s going up by a hundred. No way I’m paying that for this dump.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. “James, you specifically told me that wasn’t why you were upset. We’ll help you find somewhere, you know that.”

All he recalled saying was _fuck,_ but she wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah. The other thing, um. I kind of - quit my job?”

He hadn’t meant to make it a question, but the implications of what he’d done were only just starting to sink in. What was he supposed to do now? He tried not to feel sorry for himself too often, since he knew he was a hell of a lot luckier than many of his fellow vets, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he had three limbs, a high school diploma that he barely scraped a pass on, and definitely no reference from his previous employer.

Not that he regretted quitting for a moment. It was just daunting, realising that he still had - hopefully - most of his life ahead of him and he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with it.

He looked around. Everyone was looking concerned, but nobody seemed particularly upset about his news.

Clint was the one to say it first. “I mean, that sucks. Kind of. But, you know, you did hate it. So I’m finding it hard to be that pissed at you.”

Natasha had her mouth full of naan bread, but she pointed at Clint as if to say _seconded._

Steve was looking unsure of what he should say, but Bucky knew that Steve had never been a big fan of him working at the bar. Not because he looked down on jobs like that, far from it. But Bucky was bad at hiding his emotions from Steve, and he knew that every time he mentioned work it had probably been blindingly obvious just how much he didn’t enjoy what he was doing.

“Alright, yeah,” Bucky said. “I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do now, but you’re right. That’s not really why I was…”

He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Upset? Not in control of his own body? Mildly suicidal?

“A wreck?” Natasha helpfully suggested, which earned her an annoyed frown from Steve.

“That, yeah.” He knew he had to tell them what had happened, but he was also trying really hard not to think about it in too much detail.

He looked down at his plate, which he hadn’t touched yet, and started talking. His words were halting, and he could feel the atmosphere in the room change as he told them exactly what the amputee fetishist - fuck, he had theoretically known that was a thing but meeting one of them hadn’t ever occurred to him as a possibility - had said.

“And then I walked into the office and quit on the spot,” he finished, noticing how strained his voice had sounded.

“Bucky, oh my god.” Steve sounded heartbroken, and Bucky quickly put his plate on the table and reached out his hand to Steve, who grasped it like he was clinging onto a lifeline.

“I will find him and murder him. Slowly. I will take his tiny balls and slice -”

“Um, Nat,” Clint interrupted. “I’m totally with you on this one, but maybe save the gruesome torture scenes for another time?”

“Fine,” Natasha conceded. “But I am imagining it in my head, so you know. Vividly. James, darling, I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

Bucky nodded in her general direction. He didn’t really feel like making eye contact with anyone yet. “Thanks. It was - yeah, it was pretty bad.” He wasn’t going to downplay it, he still felt like he wanted to pour bleach over himself when he replayed that conversation in his head.

“I’m not saying - people without limbs aren’t less attractive,” he continued. “It wasn’t about that. It’s the way he said it, like he thought this imaginary woman would be helpless and he could just _use_ her, fuck. I feel sick.”

“James, we know the difference between being sex positive about people with disabilities and fetishising them, give us some credit,” Natasha said. “I literally work in the sex industry, for crying out loud.”

“Hah! I thought it was the _high class escort_ industry?” Clint sounded inappropriately thrilled to have caught Natasha out. “But yeah, what she said. I would definitely help Natasha with the torture.”

“He didn’t actually do anything to anyone,” Bucky pointed out.

“That we know of,” Natasha said darkly. And it wasn’t like that hadn’t occurred to Bucky already; even if you ignored the amputee obsession the guy would still have set warning bells off. He definitely hadn’t sounded like he was overly concerned with consent in that little fantasy of his.

“Did you get his name?” Clint asked.

“No - wait, he did tell me. Something weird. Arnold? But more foreign sounding than that. Maybe Arnon or Arnin. Why?”

“No reason,” Clint said, then backed down when Bucky glared at him. “I can do some detective work if I have a name, that’s all. Might be something that’ll keep him off the streets.”

Bucky didn’t really want to argue with that, and he was feeling too exhausted to say much more anyway.

Steve squeezed his hand. “I already emailed in sick today, Buck. We can have a nap, watch TV and stuff.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I’m feeling alright now, just tired.”

“I wanted to. Pepper didn’t mind, and Tony won’t even notice.”

A lazy day with Steve actually sounded perfect right then. “If you’re sure. What are you two up to?”

Clint shrugged. “Sleep? I don’t know, man. Didn’t have any plans before this little expedition came up.”

Bucky remembered that it was still either ridiculously early or late for everyone, depending on how you looked at it.

“I - thank you for coming, guys,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “It means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it,” Natasha said, before smirking. “Anyway, I have already been rewarded.”

“My dick isn’t that great, okay.”

“Disagree,” Steve piped up, causing Bucky to choke on air and Clint and Natasha to laugh.

“Seriously though, anytime,” Clint said. “You’d have done the same for us.”

“And we’re here for you. We can help with job hunting, or a new apartment,” Natasha said. “Or burying a body. Your call.”

Bucky laughed quietly. “I don’t deserve you guys.”

“You deserve lots of things, Buck,” Steve said, and Bucky looked over to see his boyfriend frowning at him.

He didn’t want to start a discussion about self-esteem issues, so he just raised one eyebrow at Steve. “Do I deserve a quick blowjob before I go back to sleep?”

“You haven’t eaten your breakfast, don’t see why I should reward you.” Steve was blushing slightly but not backing down. Bucky felt a wave of affection hit him, and at the thought of curling up and sleeping - actual sleep, with no sex involved - with Steve he felt better than he had in hours.

“On that note, we will leave you,” Natasha said. “Steve, it was lovely to meet you properly. I think you are good for James.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. “You too. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

Clint jumped up and nodded at Steve. “We’re already better acquainted. Ran into each other on the ground floor and had to walk up five flights of stairs together because your landlord is a dickhead who won’t fix your lift. We bonded about how annoying it is that you still live in a shithole.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, having heard versions of this argument from all three of them before. “Not anymore, at least.”

Clint and Natasha said their goodbyes, and Bucky instantly felt a small bit of tension leave him that he hadn’t even known was there. He loved his friends, but they could be overwhelming, and it had been stressful having to wonder if Steve was getting along with them in the back of his mind.

“Just you and me,” Steve said quietly, echoing Bucky's thoughts.

“You up for a wild few hours of dozing like old people?”

Steve laughed. “Always. But, um. Can I say something first?”

“Of course.”

Steve looked like he didn’t know where to start. “I just - I wanted you to know, I don’t - sorry, I’m not sure how to say this. You’re very attractive. All of you. But your arm - left arm, I mean. I don’t feel strongly about it either way. It’s not, um, unattractive. But I’m not, you know. Directly attracted _to_ it, or anything. It’s just part of you.”

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that. Well, he had assumed that was more or less Steve’s thoughts on his stump, though it was good to hear that Steve really didn’t think it was ugly. But he hadn’t thought Steve would bring it up. He supposed it made sense now, though, after what they had just been talking about.

“Thanks, babe. It’s not people’s fault if they’re attracted to something or not, but it’s good to hear that you don’t care.”

“I wouldn’t say don’t _care,_ ” Steve said. “Obviously I care you had to go through losing your arm, and that it still affects you. I just - I like you. Every bit of you. That’s all I meant.”

“I love you.”

Shit. That had not been what he was going to say.

But then Steve smiled, his adorable smile that Bucky couldn’t help but respond to every time he saw it.

“I love you too,” Steve said, and reached out for Bucky’s hand. “Now, sleep?”

Sleep sounded great. With his boyfriend. Who he loved, and who loved him back. 

Bucky was going to need at least a few hours of unconsciousness to process everything that had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Where to start? The amputee fetishist tells Bucky about a fantasy he has where he has sex with a woman with no limbs, and asks to see Bucky's stump as a reference. The fantasy strongly implies that consent isn't important, which is discussed later. Bucky is very distressed and goes into a sort of dissociative state after hearing this. He quits his jobs and his boss says some extremely ableist and offensive things, including one slur. Bucky's train of thought includes some 'mention of suicidal thoughts' type sentences. Later, Natasha asks Bucky if Steve is trans, which backs Bucky into a corner because he knows that you shouldn't out people without permission. Natasha looks at Bucky's dick without his express consent. Also mentions of torture.
> 
> The less-angsty tl:dr - Bucky quits his job and finds out that his rent is going up so he will have to move out. Steve, Natasha, and Clint come round to comfort him, and the chapter ends on a mostly hopeful note, with Steve and Bucky finally saying 'I love you' to each other.
> 
> I hope I made clear the difference between a) the fact that people with disabilities should be able to have the same level of openness and lack of stigma about their sex lives as everyone should, and b) non-consensually reducing someone with a disability TO that disability by fetishising it. Again, I can't stress enough, if you feel I wrote this badly and have time to leave a quick comment telling me, I will appreciate it so much.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close to the end now! I can't believe it, I will be very sad when this story stops posting. I will definitely be returning to this AU for short sequels, a few people in the comments have given me some excellent ideas for oneshots so thank you for that!
> 
> As always, warnings in end notes and thank you for reading! Feedback is very appreciated.

* * *

It had been three weeks since Bucky had quit his job, and he still wasn’t sure where to start looking for a new one. He didn’t want to be typecast as the injured vet who was only looking for tough-guy type jobs, but at the same time he wasn’t sure how well he would do if he tried to push himself too far out of his comfort zone.

It was kind of sad that his comfort zone when it came to employment involved almost inevitable abuse and the strong possibility of violence, but apparently that was his life now. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get out of that cycle; he just didn’t have the energy to start thinking about how to go about it.

The problem of having nowhere to live, on the other hand, had been solved in the best possible way. Steve had suggested, in his best attempt at a casual voice, that Bucky could always stay with him for a while, and he had accepted on the spot.

They were both pretending that the move was temporary and just for practical purposes - after all, Bucky didn’t have a source of income anymore, and his savings were almost non-existent - but it turned out that he actually loved living with Steve, and he was hoping that the feeling was mutual.

It wasn’t perfect, of course. Steve was wholeheartedly a morning person, whereas Bucky was still used to working nights and then sleeping through till lunchtime. Steve thought that Bucky took way too long in the shower, and Bucky frequently got annoyed at Steve abandoning cooking or doing the dishes because some artistic muse had struck him and he needed to put paint to canvas right that second.

Both of them had grown used to having their own space, and Steve’s apartment wasn’t really intended for two people. They did end up irritating each other sometimes, especially on the days when Steve was working from home and it felt like they couldn’t do anything without tripping over one another.

But all that was outweighed by knowing that he got to fall asleep with Steve every night, and wake up beside him each morning. Well, not so much the second one, because of the whole morning person thing, but lying next to Steve at any time of day, knowing that he didn’t have to get up and go to a job where pretty much everyone either hated or resented him, had rapidly become one of Bucky’s favourite things in the world.

One Sunday morning, Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve sitting in bed next to him, pretending to read a book. At least, Bucky thought he was just pretending, since Steve was sneaking a glance at Bucky at the exact moment he woke up. That was either a very unlikely coincidence, or Steve had been doing that every minute for however long he’d been sitting there, waiting for Bucky to stir.

His boyfriend was adorable. Bucky didn’t really feel like speaking yet, so he kissed the nearest part of Steve he could reach without moving much - which turned out to be his thigh - and made a grunting sound that hopefully would pass for a _good morning._

“Morning, Buck,” Steve said fondly, putting his book down and moving one of his hands to Bucky’s hair.

Bucky would vehemently resist any comparisons between him and a cat, but he couldn’t deny that he loved having someone - well, Steve - stroking his hair. It made him want to lie still for hours, just dozing and feeling the quiet calm that washed over him whenever Steve touched him.

But he needed to take a piss and brush his teeth, and he was about ninety percent sure that Steve had been waiting for Bucky to wake up for a specific reason. So after a few blissful minutes of letting Steve comb through his hair, smoothing out the tangles that usually formed during the night, he pushed the covers off himself and started to get up.

“Wait,” Steve said, sounding nervous. Bucky sat up and turned to look at him.

“You okay?” His voice was slightly hoarse, but he was feeling fairly awake now. And the anxious look on Steve’s face woke him up even faster.

“Um, yeah.”

Steve fell silent after that. He clearly had something on his mind, but Bucky honestly had no idea what it could be. He cast his memory back to last night to check they hadn’t argued about anything, but it had just been a normal evening - dinner, half a movie, and an early night. Jesus, they really were turning into an old married couple.

When Steve still hadn’t spoken after a minute, Bucky decided to hurry things along a bit.

“I’m not psychic, babe,” he said, smiling at Steve in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Steve looked down. “I know, and it’s nothing bad. I was just - thinking. About when you and Sharon met.”

Ah.

“I’m going to assume you mean the part of the conversation where we talked about us fucking, rather than about our differences of opinion on karate movies.”

“Yeah, that part.”

“Okay? I mean, I can’t really go back and undo that talk - trust me, I would love to - but if it’s bothering you I can make sure not to talk about anyone else I’ve been with.”

“No, no, it’s not that. Kind of the opposite?”

“You _liked_ hearing me talk about it?”

“Well, not specifically Sharon, but kind of? And remember when you told me about, um, the girl on her period?”

Wow. This had definitely not been what Bucky had been expecting when Steve had looked at him with that we need to talk face. This was a million times better, though, whatever it was. He hoped he was looking as unthreatening and accepting as possible; he knew how embarrassed Steve could get when he was talking about the possibility of them having sex.

“Yeah, course I do,” he said. “Babe, just say whatever you’re thinking. I guarantee I won’t judge you for it.”

Steve’s face was flushed and he still wasn’t meeting Bucky’s eyes. 

“You like giving oral, don’t you?”

 _Fuck._ Bucky winced slightly as his dick started taking an interest in the conversation. The beginnings of an erection when he still needed to pee wasn’t exactly a comfortable feeling, but with some effort he ignored it and concentrated on Steve.

“I used to love it,” Bucky said honestly. “I’m not as into sex in general since the army, but I’m pretty sure I’d still enjoy it a lot, yeah.”

He didn’t want to ask if this was leading up to anything. It could be that Steve was just curious about Bucky’s past again; this didn’t necessarily mean that he actually wanted them to do anything physical in reality. And he really hated when Steve assumed that Bucky was just waiting desperately for the moment Steve said he was okay with them having more, or different, sex than they already had done. He loved Steve and was definitely attracted to him, but he was pretty sure he could go the rest of his life without fucking anyone if it meant keeping everything else the way it was right now.

And that was a too-heavy thought for first thing on a sleepy Sunday morning.

“Can we try it?” Steve’s eyes were wide, but he had spoken clearly and there was no doubt as to what he meant.

Jesus. Okay, so apparently it wasn’t just simple curiosity. Bucky twitched as his dick started getting harder, but he kept ignoring it. Some things were more important than orgasms, even if his younger self might have disagreed.

“Of course we can. I don’t know you what you’re expecting me to say here. I’m not going to say no, babe.”

“You can, though. If you want.” Steve looked adorably earnest, and Bucky reminded himself that they were both maybe a little fucked up when it came to issues about fully informed consent.

“I know that,” he said softly, reaching out to touch Steve’s thigh, hoping that the physical contact would be reassuring for both of them. “I promise, I’ll always say no if I’m not up for something. But trust me when I say I would be _more_ than happy to eat you out, okay?”

“Okay. Um, cool.”

Steve looked like he had no idea how to go from here. Bucky wasn’t feeling at his most confident himself; there was a lot more pressure when it came to sex in a long-term relationship than there was with some random person at a party who he would hopefully never see again in his life.

Before he could think of anything else to say, Steve opened his mouth again.

“But, ah. I don’t, y’know, orgasm very often,” Steve said quickly “And it takes fucking ages when I try, so don’t worry about that part of it.”

Bucky had heard variations on that before, always from women - well, from people with vaginas, if he included this time. Usually it was because society was way more focused on dicks as being the be-all and end-all of sex, but occasionally it was a genuine request. Admittedly, he took pride in being good at making someone come, but he was fine with not aiming for that if his partner really wasn’t into it.

“If you don’t want me to focus on that then sure. But I’m trying very hard not to have a Barney Stinson moment here.”

Steve looked blank. “What?”

“Barney Stinson from How I Met Your Mother? You know, _challenge accepted?_ I can’t believe I know more about TV than you, I wasn’t even in the country for the final season.”

“Is this another one I should put on my list?” Steve seemed less anxious now that he’d said what had clearly been bothering him for a while, but he wasn’t completely relaxed yet.

“Ah, I wouldn’t bother. It’s ten seasons long and they ballsed up the ending.”

“So, um.” 

“We don’t have to do it right this second, Steve. But yeah, of course I’d be up for that if you want it. And can I ask something about the orgasm side of it?”

“I guess?”

“You don’t have to answer. But is it that you don’t care if you come or you feel bad about how long it takes you? ‘Cause if it’s the second one, I can guarantee that isn’t an issue, babe.”

Steve scrunched his nose up. “Bit of both? I think the number of times I’ve actually, you know, is less than ten. I don’t need it and sometimes it feels really overwhelming.” Bucky nodded as if he understood, not wanting to make Steve feel insecure. “But, um, it can be pretty great, so I don’t know.”

Less than ten? Jesus. Bucky had probably come that many times in a weekend back when he was a teenager. But he was determined not to let his thoughts show on his face. Everyone was built differently, and he was aware that Steve had a lot of reasons to not be anywhere near as comfortable with his genitals as Bucky was with his dick.

“Well, just tell me anytime if you want me to stop or slow down, or do anything different, okay?”

“Should we have a safeword?”

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that question, especially not from someone who wasn’t particularly experienced. Knowing Steve, he had probably done research into the best way to go about having safe sex. Bucky took a moment to think about his answer, not wanting to give the wrong impression about his expectations.

“I mean, we definitely can if you want one. But I’m not that into the whole BDSM scene. If you tell me something isn’t working for you, I’m going to stop doing it.”

He wanted to add an obviously to the end of that sentence, but he knew that wouldn’t do anything except make Steve defensive. 

“Oh, okay. So I can just say no, or stop, or something?”

Bucky swallowed down a tight knot of anger that had felt like it was growing inside his throat. Now wasn’t the right moment to look frustrated or pissed off; Steve would just assume it was aimed at him, and that was the opposite of what Bucky wanted.

“Always,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. “Or pinch me, tap me, whatever.” Something occurred to him that he had found useful occasionally in the past. “Hey, how about the traffic light system? Red for stop everything, yellow for slow down. And you can tell me when you’re green as well if you want.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Steve looked relieved for a second, then anxious again. “Sorry, Buck. This is probably the worst build up to sex ever.”

For the hundredth time, Bucky thought about how satisfying he would find it if he got Clint to track down Steve’s ex just so he could have the pleasure of punching him very hard in his face. And his dick.

“Hey, no. Talking is good, okay? I want you to feel like you can tell me this stuff. And I like talking about it anyway, so don’t worry about that.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t agree with him out loud. Bucky decided to get them off the subject of sex for the moment, since they had already discussed the most important aspects. And also because he was about ten minutes away from losing control of his bladder, which would definitely not be a good way to get either or them in the mood.

“You eaten yet?”

Steve shook his head.

“Okay, so I’ll go take a quick shower and we can have breakfast together,” Bucky said in a light voice. “And then we can see what we both feel like doing after that, yeah?”

“Sure,” Steve said, and Bucky hoped it wasn’t his imagination that Steve was looking more relaxed.

He stood up, pretending he didn’t notice Steve’s eyes widening as he saw Bucky’s half-hard dick tenting the front of his boxers, and stretched out his back. He reached down and gave Steve a quick kiss, then made his way into the bathroom.

After he had taken a piss, he looked at himself in the mirror, unsurprised to see that his pupils looked a lot larger than normal. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, then turned the shower on. He thought about jerking off, but decided against it. His dick still wasn’t as reliable as it had been before Afghanistan, and he didn’t want to come now and then find out that Steve wanted him to later.

Half an hour later they were sat at Steve’s kitchen table, full of pancakes and hot chocolate.

“Um, how should we do this?” Steve looked nervous again, which was really not what Bucky wanted. “I could go lie down, I guess?”

“However you want, babe. But if you lie down on your back I can’t use my fingers on you. Need to hold myself up with my arm in that position.” 

Steve started turning red, which was adorable but not ideal; Bucky didn’t want Steve to be embarrassed about any of this.

“Fingers?” Steve asked, in a very obvious attempt as a casual voice.

Bucky shrugged, trying to seem unaffected by the little shifts Steve kept making unconsciously in his chair. “Only if you’re into that. I wouldn’t put anything inside you without checking first, but I can use them for other things.”

Steve nodded, looking like this conversation might be getting too much for him.

“You could always sit on my face,” Bucky suggested, and was rewarded with an even deeper blush that spread all the way down Steve’s neck to his chest.

“I - yeah. That.” Steve sounded more confident already, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: lots and lots of detailed discussion of (mostly oral) sex, including logistics, consent issues, mentions of safe sex/safewords/BDSM. But no actual sexual content, just the talking about it.
> 
> Before anyone gets their hopes up, the next chapter is NOT the sex scene, apologies. I am not a fan of writing them and it would have delayed the posting of this fic by a long time, if it ever got done at all. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the long emotional conversation instead! Thank you for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, posting this chapter will take me to over 100k words written on here. That's unbelievable, I'm so so glad I joined AO3.
> 
> Little time jump here for the last chapter. This was a hard fic to wrap up; I just wanted to keep going but I don't have the time to write much these days and I didn't want it be be a WIP for months. Hope you enjoy! Thank you all for reading and for your support <3

* * *

Steve was trying not to jinx anything, but life was pretty great at the moment. Bucky had finally agreed to make his move into Steve’s apartment permanent, and after a few minor arguments about who should pay for bills they had settled into what he’d heard Natasha refer to as _horrifying domesticity, Clint, never let us get like that._

Steve was due for a raise soon, and then they were thinking about looking at somewhere with a bit more room. His apartment was great, but he wanted Bucky to have his own space for when he wanted to be alone for a while. And he wanted to feel like their place truly belonged to both of them, rather than it being Steve’s apartment that Bucky also happened to live in.

More space was especially going to be needed in a couple of months, since that was when Bucky would be starting his degree in psychology, and they would both be working or studying at home together some days. Sam had sat down with the two of them and talked them through pretty much every scholarship and student loan for veterans that was out there, and after some tough conversations about self-worth and believing in himself, Bucky had reluctantly agreed to at least try applying for a few of them.

And, to nobody’s surprise but his own, he had received three different offers. He hadn’t wanted to risk getting into debt, which even with the financial aid was still a possibility if he went for somewhere like NYU. So he had decided on LaGuardia community college in Queens, and had been selected for a two-year programme there.

Steve was beyond happy that Bucky had thought of something he wanted to do with his life. Not that he would have minded at all if Bucky had wanted to do nothing all day, though that might have been an issue in terms of money. But after Bucky had quit his job at the bar - the reason behind him leaving still made Steve furious every time he thought about it, and he was so glad that Bucky never had to see that place again - it had only taken a few short weeks before it had become apparent just how much Bucky hated not having anything to do with his time.

He would pace around the apartment like it was a cage, which both worried Steve and - as bad as he felt about it - annoyed him, especially when he was trying to get work done. On a few occasions Steve had wondered if their suddenly much more active sex life was partly responsible for keeping Bucky from doing something self-destructive like going and asking for his old job back. Some days it felt like the only thing keeping Bucky from trying to crawl out of his own skin was the long hours they spent making love in as many ways as they were both comfortable with.

It had been Riley who had suggested that Bucky start volunteering at the VA. It had been a while since Steve had helped out with the art therapy sessions there; work and a new relationship had kept him busy, but he remembered finding it daunting the first couple of times and then enjoyable and rewarding every time after that.

Bucky had pointed out that he should probably still be a patient there rather than being trusted with anyone’s welfare, but Riley had told him that a lot of people were both and that everyone would be understanding if he didn’t take to it.

So Bucky had agreed to give it a try, and within a week he was going there almost every other day. He had even sat in on a few group sessions, and though he told Steve it was just to accompany a new member that had been feeling nervous, they both knew that Bucky was getting something out of them as well.

Then Sam had come to them and suggested that maybe instead of finding a new job straightaway, Bucky might want to look into continuing his education, and having a clear goal to focus on had improved his state of mind even more. 

Things were going so well, and Steve couldn’t believe how a chance meeting outside a disgusting mall bathroom - he wrinkled his nose up as he remembered it; someone had pissed on the floor for fuck’s sake - had turned into a relationship that had changed Steve’s life beyond recognition.

That was definitely something that deserved a celebration, and today Steve was determined to think only about the present and the future. No more dwelling in the past; he had so much to be grateful for now and he was going to stay focused on that.

Today was a special day for more than one reason. It would be the first time that Sam and Riley met Natasha and Clint, and it also just so happened to be the day of the New York City Pride parade.

Steve looked through their bedroom doorway to see if Bucky had stirred yet. He smiled fondly as he saw his boyfriend had sprawled across the side of the bed Steve had left empty two hours earlier.

Steve walked quietly to the foot of the bed and placed his hand on Bucky’s ankle. He wasn’t about to wake him up with anything loud or startling; Bucky didn’t really suffer from PTSD anymore, but that didn’t mean he was a fan of surprise awakenings.

Steve sat down, still resting his hand gently on Bucky’s leg, and waited for a few moments. Sure enough, Bucky started moving under the covers, although Steve couldn’t help but notice that they were more the movements of someone trying to rub off against the sheets rather than of someone focused on waking up.

“Rise and shine, Buck,” he said in what he would bet was a too-loud voice for Bucky to be hearing first thing in the - well, for him anyway - morning.

A grumbling sound was the only reply he got, but Steve could interpret Bucky’s sleepy noises pretty well by now, and that was less of an annoyed one than it was an _is breakfast ready yet_ kind of one.

“Food’s up,” Steve said, and was rewarded by Bucky sitting up in bed, the sheets falling down to his waist to reveal his bare chest.

They definitely didn’t have time for sex if they were going to make it to the parade in time, so Steve just tugged at Bucky’s leg until he moved closer, then kissed him quickly and stood back up, smiling inwardly at the protesting noise Bucky made as soon as Steve was two feet away from him.

They ate quickly and spent longer than usual getting ready for the day. Steve put a few swipes of eyeliner on Bucky, which made his eyes look even more incredible than usual, and Bucky pretended to be annoyed at how long Steve took to style his hair before taking three times as long on his own.

But they did make it there on time, to find Sam and Riley waiting in the spot they’d all decided would be the perfect one to watch the parade go by from. Natasha and Clint arrived only a minute later, and Steve introduced them to Sam and Riley, finding it hard to keep a smile off his face at the thought of so many of his favourite people being in one place together.

He had really warmed up to Natasha and Clint since their first less-than-ideal meeting. When Bucky was busy at the VA, he had occasionally hung out with them on his own and had actually enjoyed himself. He had surprised them by being more than willing to join in their games of trying to one-up each other with double entendres, and he had made even more of an impression when he had made Natasha choke on her drink with an almost-innuendo about the tiny curled straws in it. He still didn’t know exactly what it was Clint did for a living, but he got the feeling that it wasn’t necessary for Clint to share his life story in order to make friends so he didn’t mind.

He looked around at his little group, feeling warm inside as he saw them all laughing together. They were dressed in their usual range of outfits, from Natasha’s elegant little black dress to Riley’s hand-sewn patchwork jacket. Sam looked like he did every day in his jeans and a casual shirt, but someone had painted rainbow stripes in a little rectangle on his cheek.

Bucky was in a plain black t-shirt, but with a badge in the colours of the pansexual pride flag pinned over his heart. He had decided recently that he preferred to use that term for himself, and he and Steve had even given a short talk at the VA on why some people might call themselves pansexual while others might go with bisexual. It had been a surprise success, and Sam was in the process of organising another similar event where Steve and Riley were going to discuss transgender issues.

Steve could tell that Bucky was having a good day today; he had chosen a short-sleeved t-shirt and had left his prosthesis at home, and his hair was loose and flowing over his shoulders. He looked happy in his own skin, a feeling which Steve knew all too well should never be taken for granted.

Steve looked down at his own t-shirt, proud of how it had come out. He had wanted to make one himself, and had settled on painting a curving ribbon that formed the shape of a heart onto a plain white tank top. The ribbon’s colours faded back and forth between the transgender and the bisexual pride flags. 

Natasha was wearing a small pin with colours that looked familiar, but which he was ashamed to realise he couldn’t actually place. She saw him looking at it, and motioned for him to move closer to her.

“Aromantic,” she said in his ear. “You know what that is?”

“Oh, yeah I do,” Steve said. “Have you been to Pride before?”

“Not properly. But Clint has been to many of them, even though he doesn’t identify as queer.”

Steve looked over at Clint. He was so used to seeing his weird outfits that he hadn’t even registered the latest one, but now that he was properly looking at it he couldn’t help but laugh. He was wearing an old Star Wars t-shirt that had originally read REBEL ALLIANCE, but Clint had covered up the first four letters of ‘alliance’ with marker pen and had then written ALLY over them in giant rainbow glitter-glue letters. He also had on green tights that Steve recognised from the day Clint had shown up without warning to the bar he and Bucky were having a drink at; he had proceeded to sign himself up for the open mic night and bellow out the entire Robin Hood _Men In Tights_ song before saluting the crowd and leaving out of the fire exit. Steve was glad that today he had decided to add a purple miniskirt to the ensemble; those tights really hadn’t left much to the imagination.

Sam and Bucky were catching up on how things were going at the VA, and Riley and Clint looked like they were hitting it off over a discussion about finding inexpensive beauty products. Steve turned back to Natasha just in time to see her calmly take someone’s hand that had been creeping too close to her chest and bend the fingers back slightly. 

Their little group suddenly seemed to have more space around them after that, and a few minutes later they could hear the noise of the parade approaching. Everyone was laughing and screaming and cheering, and Steve had forgotten how amazing it felt to be surrounded on all sides by people who - mostly, at least - weren’t going to judge him.

There was a low level of tension that Steve carried with him every day, usually without ever being fully aware of it. It was a bit like his chronic back pain that he’d had as a child, before the surgery that had more or less corrected his scoliosis. If you’d asked him at the age of seven whether or not he was in pain every day, he would have frowned and said of course not, but once he had recovered from surgery he had realised that there had always been an insistent pressure whenever he walked or ran; he had just become so used to it that it had barely registered as pain until he was free from it.

Being trans was a bit like that. He had transitioned physically as far as he wanted to now, and he was comfortable with his identity and much more confident about telling people than he had been even a couple of years ago. He wasn’t at all ashamed of it, and most days he quite enjoyed arguing with bigots or with people that refused to even try and understand that he was a guy. But whenever he met a new person, or walked into a new area of the city, there was still that underlying fear that this would be the one time things went irreversibly wrong; he was never able to fully forget that at any moment he could be threatened or attacked just for being himself.

But now, in a shower of rainbow confetti and glitter that the passing floats were throwing over them, standing in the middle of a little group of people that knew him inside and out, Steve felt _free._ Pride was far from perfect; he doubted he was the only person who hadn’t recognised what Natasha’s badge was, and he knew that the media’s focus on any transgender issues would be focused on the fabulous-looking drag queens rather than the more mundanely dressed people like him, but it was still - at least in spirit - a place for the outcasts of the world to find somewhere where they could fit in _because_ they were different, rather than in spite of it.

And as he leaned back into Bucky’s chest, turning his head for a quick kiss before facing forward again to watch a procession of oiled-up men in tiny leather shorts go by, Steve sank into that feeling of belonging, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I'm so sad this fic is over! Thank you so much to everyone that followed it, especially if you read it as a WIP, and especially to those who left comments that kept me writing! I love these versions of Steve and Bucky and I'm sure I'll come back to this AU some day for some short sequels/timestamps.
> 
> Feedback welcome as always :)


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